Five Years Gone
by BregoBeauty
Summary: Five years after the flight, Lisa is getting married. Days before, she gets a warning from an old foe to beware her finace. Can she trust Jackson? Or does he have other motives?
1. Chapter One

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Red Eye_! The characters of Lisa and Jackson are property of Wes Craven, Carl Ellsworth, and DreamWorks Pictures.

**Summary:** A lot can happen in five years. Lisa falls in love, finally moving on after a disastrous encounter with a handsome stranger. Just days before her wedding, Jackson Rippner drops back into her life, looking better than ever, with a warning about her fiancé. Now she has to choose between Mr. Perfect and a white picket fence and Mr. Wrong and a life of danger.

**Chapter One**

Lisa Reisert turned this way and that in front of the half-circle of floor-length mirrors. The light caught some of the sequins sewn into the delicate silk. She ran her hands over the smooth fabric, sucking in her stomach at the same time.

The white color flattered her tan skin and dark hair. It also matched the large diamond set in white gold on her left hand.

She studied her profile in the mirror, noting the way the material clung to her curves, not flattering them in the slightest. "Do you have anything with a more fitted top… and a fuller skirt?" she asked the saleswoman standing off to the side.

"Of course, Miss Reisert. Is there any particular style? Do you want a train on the dress?"

"Umm, no, no train. Floor-length's fine. I just don't want a really poofy skirt."

"I'll bring you a few more choices," the blonde said before disappearing out onto the floor.

Lisa stepped down from the platform, careful not to rip any stitches, and slipped back into the fitting room she'd left her purse and street clothes in. She wriggled out of the gown and sighed.

She'd never been a fan of dress shopping. All the lights and mirrors were intimidating. She hated trying to squeeze into unflattering gowns in hopes of finding one that fit, flattered, and hid the long scar over her breast.

Even here, under the artificial lights, she could remember a cool hand slipping down her shirt and fingertips skimming over the raised scar. His touch was almost a caress.

And his voice. Well, she would never forget his voice.

"Get a grip," she told her reflection. It had been five years since she last saw him; seven since she ended up with the vicious mark.

"Here you are, Miss Reisert," the saleswoman said, knocking on the dressing room door. "I brought you another five to start with."

Lisa plastered her happy bride-to-be smile on and opened the door.

* * *

She picked at her salad, spearing bits of greenery with her fork, but hardly chewing.

"So, did you find a dress today, honey?" her father asked, his voice soft and filled with concern. Joseph Reisert always looked out for his only daughter. After the events of five years ago, he had more reason than ever to keep an eye on her.

"No, not yet."

He took a sip of red wine from his glass. "You know, Lisa, if you aren't sure, it's not too late to back out…"

"What?" Her head shot up from her plate. "You mean call off the wedding?"

"Yes or postpone it."

"Why would I do that?"

"I'm sorry, honey, but you just don't seem very happy or into all of this wedding business. I remember when I married your mother… she couldn't stop talking about this or that little detail and arguing the pros and cons of different flowers and menus… But you, you don't seem very into the planning."

"I just have a lot on my mind," she said.

He nodded across the table. "I understand, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "I know, Dad. I know."

Except she wouldn't. She couldn't ever find the right words to explain what exactly happened. Even to her therapist or the police. There were pieces of the flight that stayed locked in her head. If she talked about it, then what happened would be real.

She couldn't deal with that. Not when she was about to get married in two months.

She met her fiancé not long after the flight from hell. He had warm brown eyes, carefully trimmed and styled dirty-blond hair, and a more muscular frame than most men she'd dated. He also carried a loaded handgun.

Lisa felt safe with him, even though he was one of the several people asking her over and over again what happened en route to Miami from her grandmother's funeral.

Once the investigation cleared her of all wrong-doing, Timothy Greene asked her to dinner. She said yes.

What followed was ancient history. They dated for two and a half years before he popped the question on the anniversary of the flight. Lisa said yes without much hesitation. Now, almost two years later, they were fast approaching their wedding date.

Tim worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He was currently assigned to a Florida field office. After they married, there was a chance the Bureau would reassign him to another office elsewhere in the United States.

As long as she didn't have to step on a plane, Lisa didn't care where they went.

* * *

Across an ocean, a man stepped off a plane. He pulled a carry-on with one hand as he slipped sunglasses over his eyes. His suit was well-cut and expensive, his shirt and tie made of the finest silk available for purchase, and his leather shoes were handmade in Italy. The platinum watch on his left wrist was a real Rolex, not a fake or a knockoff purchased on a street corner.

The wind ruffled his long dark hair. He ignored it, intent on a waiting limousine.

He folded his lean body into the backseat after handing his suitcase off to the waiting chauffer. The door closed behind him.

"What's so important that I had to rush all the way over here?" he asked the other man already inside the limousine. He sounded bored and annoyed.

"Sorry to interrupt your vacation. How is Russia, by the way?"

"Fucking freezing. What did you expect?"

The older man smiled. "Then I think you'll like this job. It's in a much… warmer climate."

"How warm are we talking?"

"Let's just say at least eighty degrees on a cloudy day."

"Is this an island?"

"No, no. It's Florida. I need you to keep track of a man for me. We think he's got sticky fingers."

"And?"

"I need you to prove it. Do what you do so well and get inside his head. Learn his routines. You know—the basics."

"What's in it for me?"

"Oh, let's see… two million sound good?"

"What did he steal?"

The older man shrugged. "That's your job, not mine."

He frowned, settling back into the leather seat. "Fine. When do I start?"

"After the plane refuels."

"So soon? I haven't even had a cup of coffee yet."

"Don't worry. We've got some time."

The younger man took off his sunglasses. "So who is this guy?"

"His name is Timothy Greene. He's a fed."

**Author's Notes:**

The idea for this story has been chilling in my notebook for a while. I wanted to get _Newfound Clarity_ finished before I jumped into a new story, but the plot bunny demanded to be taken care of. Thanks for reading and please review!


	2. Chapter Two

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Red Eye_!

**Chapter Two**

Once the plane took off, Jackson Rippner settled into his seat and opened the manila folder his contact had given him. He flipped through the basic data—name, age, address—and past the attached photographs. Even glancing at the file was beginning to bore him.

He flipped toward the end, tracking his more recent movements. According to the file, Greene was one of six federal agents assigned to the Lux Atlantic bombing.

But even that wasn't as interesting as the most recent notations in the file.

Anthony Greene was due to wed his fiancée, Lisa Reisert, in two months' time.

Lisa Reisert. The only target who ever defeated him. The only girl he might have cared for—if she hadn't viciously stabbed him with a variety of everyday objects.

But getting married? He never would have pegged Lisa for one of those delusional types. A white dress, pounds of flowers, and a packed church full of people you barely know didn't seem like Lisa's idea of a good time. Of course, that was the Lisa he knew—not the Lisa that she shared with the world.

Still, he couldn't resist the temptation to see her again. It didn't even matter what Anthony Greene did or didn't do. He planned to get close to her; to haunt her once more. He hated to admit it—even to himself—but he missed her and their mind games.

Which was why, after arriving in Miami, he went straight to her apartment.

* * *

Jackson parked his rental sedan down the block. From his parking spot, he could see her second-story rooms. The curtains were tightly drawn, but that never stopped him before.

He admired that unlike most brides-to-be, Lisa still kept a separate apartment. It wasn't uncommon for dating couples to move in together before getting married or even engaged. Lisa broke from that mold. While most women that he knew would already being living with their fiancé, she maintained a separate home.

Lisa liked her space—he remembered that well. Even after the hell he put her through, she refused to stay put with her father. She fled her childhood home in favor of her apartment. She stayed there, alone, without an alarm system or an animal to protect her.

She came away from the flight a stronger and more confident woman. It was all because of him. He changed her; molded her. Lisa belonged to him. She was his creation.

He stared up at the windows, noticing the security company plaque in a window. _Good girl, not that it's going to stop me…_

Little things that slowed down or scared off the average burglar or predator weren't going to stop him. It would take more than a few top-of-the-line locks, a security system, and even a guard dog to stop him. He always got what he wanted.

* * *

Inside her apartment, Lisa slipped into a slinky dress and heels. Her usual auburn curls were flat-ironed into oblivion and secured with tiny clips. She pulled a shawl out of her closet and wrapped it around her bare arms. Her scar was carefully hidden by the neckline of the deep blue dress.

She reapplied her lipstick and touched up the rest of her make-up. Tonight, her and Tony were going to celebrate. He'd just closed an important case and wanted to let loose a bit.

Normally she was against going out in the middle of the week, especially all dressed up, but Tony swayed her. He always did in the end. She never stood a chance against him.

* * *

Jackson waited for her to leave in dark sedan—probably Greene's car. He jotted down the license plate number to check against the file later. He waited for five minutes, just in case Lisa forgot her cell phone or something else, before stepping out of his car.

He stretched, grateful to be out of the car. There wasn't enough leg room for his lean frame in his current vehicle. At least not when the driver spent hours sitting in the front seat staring across the street.

Jackson grabbed a small black bag and slipped on a pair of leather work gloves—mass-produced Wal-Mart gloves—to cover his prints. Latex gloves sometimes left traces of fingerprints. He preferred leather, even if it was cheap, stiff leather, to cover up his traces. Plus, if they found any remains of the gloves, they would never be able to track them back.

He climbed the stairs with his toolkit. He did a quick perimeter check to find the wires to the alarm system and to see if any of her neighbors were home or paying attention. All of the windows were either dark or had the blinds and curtains drawn.

Jackson pulled out a set of look picks he'd acquired when he worked for a locksmith. He'd learned a lot of handy skills during his career, including how to hotwire a car, how to disable alarm systems, and various methods of killing.

The locks yielded without much fuss. He slipped the lock picks back into his bag before turning the door knob.

He stepped across the threshold, inhaling Lisa's air freshener, when the shrill alarm kicked in.

* * *

At dinner, Lisa picked at her salad. Tony regaled her with stories about his work—without naming any names, of course—as he downed drink after drink. She still had a glass of wine left from the beginning of the meal.

"What do you say we go back to my place tonight?" he suggested, his hand running up and down her thigh under the table.

Her skin quivered, and not in a good way.

"I've got work tomorrow morning. Early…"

"Just for a bit, huh? You're killing me, Lisa… it's been weeks…."

He squeezed her leg. She twitched.

"Tony, I'd love to, but I have to be at work early…"

"So? Call in sick… stay with me, babe…" her fiancé urged.

She stood up from the table. "I should go…"

"You don't have a car."

"I'll take a cab," Lisa said, moving away from him. She couldn't seem to step away fast enough. Something in her stomach told her to run. Her flight response kicked in—forcing her to leave. She trusted her instincts more than she trusted him.

* * *

Jackson tackled the alarm next, crossing the room in two quick strides. A few moments later, the system was disarmed. He smiled, grateful that the awful beeping sound had stopped.

Now he could enjoy his time in Lisa's home.

* * *

She slowly walked up the steps to the second floor of her apartment complex. Once the initial rush of her panic left, Lisa realized how tired she was.

She fumbled with her key ring, trying to find the two keys she needed to enter her apartment. One set of locks took one key. The second deadbolt required a separate key.

Lisa started with the deadbolts and worked her way down. She was about to turn the knob when a loud crack startled her.

* * *

Jackson flipped through the clothes in her closet, frowning at the men's suits on one side. There were several changes of clothes, including socks and underwear, in the bedroom for Anthony Greene. He wrinkled his nose at the man's strong dime-store cologne.

_What the hell do you see in him?_

He took a brief sniff of Lisa's perfume from her dresser. Sweet and floral—that was his girl. He closed his crystalline eyes for a moment, breathing in the intoxicating scent and remembering the feisty little bitch who got away. The woman whose body fit so well against his own in the cramped bathroom.

He lost himself in the fog of memories and could-have-beens.

* * *

Lisa ducked.

A series of more cracks followed, prompting her to drop to her knees and covered her head with her arms.

She closed her eyes, her body trembling at the sound. It reminded her of gunshots. Of death. Of blood. Of him…lying on the floor, bloody and broken.

The shots stopped. She heard tires squeal before she dared to raise her head.

A spray of bullet holes punctured her door. Had she not ducked, there was a good chance a bullet would have hit her heart or other vital organs in her torso. She touched a hole.

Immediately, her stomach churned. She couldn't help it.

When the police came, they found her on her knees, dry-heaving in front of her apartment door.

* * *

Back in his car, Jackson watched her alight from a cab. She seemed rather shaky. And where was her fiancé? Why did she catch a cab home?

All of the questions and more fled his mind the moment someone opened fire on the lithe beauty.

_Greene…._

**Author's Notes:**

Some of Jackson's mad B&E skills are rooted in fact. Others are not. Seriously, I don't know how to work an alarm system. I don't have one. But Jackson… he knows people who know. He's the type to know a lot of random information and skills.

Hopefully he didn't come off as too stalker-ish this chapter.

Show of hands – who hates Anthony Greene already? Anyone have a theory about who or why Lisa was shot at? Hmm?

Anyways, thanks so much for all the reviews. Chapters should be fairly regular soon. I'm almost at the end of _Newfound Clarity_ and I plan to get further along with this story before I launch a sequel (which might be more like December – cause NaNo is for original fic – at least for me).

You guys rock!

MJ – Thanks so much! :)

MonaLisa - Thanks! :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Red Eye_.

**Chapter Three**

Yellow tape fluttered in the late night breeze. Bright spotlights along with red and blue flashers lit up the entire parking lot of the apartment complex. The sirens had long since been turned off, but it didn't keep the gawkers away.

In the midst of all of the chaos, Lisa Reisert stood upright. She shook a little, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. She answered all the questions presented to her with relative ease.

The questioning came to a halt when her fiancé showed up with a siren stuck to the roof of his unmarked sedan. Anthony flashed his badge and ducked under the tape. He didn't say a word as he strode over to her. Before she could speak, he pulled her into his arms.

"Lisa, God, when I heard… I thought…"

"I'm okay…."

He looked her over, searching for wounds. Despite the spray of bullets peppering her door, she had only minor scratches.

"If you hadn't—"

"I know. I should be dead," she said quietly, taking the words out of his mouth.

"I thought I'd lost you…"

She just nodded. She couldn't think of anything else to say to him. What ifs never helped her in the past—there was no reason to assume they would help now. She would do what she did best—adapt and survive.

* * *

He watched the police scrabble to take photographs and collect the bullets from Lisa's front door. He bristled when Anthony Greene strode onto the scene and threw his arms around her.

_This is your doing…_

He knew that this was no accidental shooting or drive-by. One, they were still in a nice part of town. Two, they focused solely on Lisa—not on the apartment complex in general. And three, this had all the ear-markings of a poorly planned hit.

Someone either wanted her dead or in pain. Whether it was a warning to Greene or just payback, Jackson wasn't sure. He didn't really care. All he knew was that Greene put Lisa in harm's way.

The only one allowed to harm Lisa in anyway was him. She belonged to him. If anyone was going to put a bullet in her, it would be him. That was his right.

* * *

"C'mon, you'll stay with me tonight," Tony said, his jacket resting on her shoulders.

"Tony—"

"Look, L… they're not gonna finish tonight or let you back in. The best thing to do would be for you to get some rest. You'll stay with me. I'll make sure you're okay."

"I don't—"

"Someone tried to kill you. Until that bastard is caught or dead, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

For some reason she couldn't logically explain, the very idea of being glued to Tony's side made her stomach hurt. It shouldn't repulse her—this was the man she was engaged to. The man who she was marrying in just a few weeks. He shouldn't make her feel sick at all. He was nothing like Jackson Rippner.

_Maybe that's why. Even though he was a killer, he told you the truth. No lies, no sugar-coating. He didn't bullshit. Plus, I felt safe with him… even toward the end._

Until they played cat-and-mouse in her father's house. By that point, she'd become afraid of the man with cool blue eyes. By then, she wanted to save her father and herself. By then, she'd lost her temper. Years of rage just simmering underneath the surface of her skin boiled over.

Jackson Rippner became the focus of her anger. She attacked him because there was no one else. She didn't—no, couldn't—stop until after she shot him. After her father shot him again.

He looked so helpless—so pathetic lying there in the foyer as he gasped for air. She held all the power. She could have shot him a third time. She could have killed him. But Lisa couldn't. The rage disappeared and was replaced by pity.

Pity for a killer. She still couldn't believe it. That was her private secret. No one in her life knew that she'd felt bad for Jackson. Not even her therapist. Tony didn't know either.

Not that it mattered anymore. Jackson Rippner died that day. His blood still stained her father's house. He'd offered to have the floor re-sanded and stained to erase the blood. Lisa told him not to bother and to save his money for other repairs around the house.

The blood stain was her only reminder of what could've been. Her last connection to Rippner.

* * *

Lisa took a quick shower at Tony's place in order to loosen up her tense muscles. He was waiting for her, wide awake, when she entered his bedroom. He whispered sweet nonsense into her ears, bidding her to come to bed with him.

She wanted to refuse, but she didn't. She needed comfort and he promised it.

His hands found their way underneath the thin cotton top and across her breasts. His thumb stroked the old scar, causing her to gasp against his mouth.

For a moment, one brief moment, she was back in the bathroom with Jackson Rippner. Tony's hand was his, his soft caress. His blue eyes, once so harsh, softened. Even his voice was filled with concern; genuine concern.

Tony pulled the shirt over her head. Lisa closed her eyes, blinking away Jackson's face, and kissing her fiancé.

_Make me forgot. Keep me safe…_

* * *

Out in his car, Jackson fell asleep once the lights went out. The modest house belonging to Anthony Greene was quiet except for breathing. He caught that over the microphones planted around the home by a flunky of his employer.

That was after hearing Lisa moan and gasp for what seemed like hours.

Jackson couldn't help but picture Lisa with him; the two of them sweaty and intertwined as he fucked her. He wasn't someone who usually "made love". That was a romantic notion that escaped him. He had sex; not love.

The picture in his head of Lisa sprawled below him as he covered her body with his did little to sate him. He wanted her in his car, in his bed—anywhere but his head and Greene's bed. She was far too good for Anthony Greene.

That didn't mean that he was any better for her. He was a killer after all with a list of enemies longer than he cared to remember. He didn't form attachments or relationships because of this very reason. He wasn't about to put someone he cared about in danger just because they knew him.

Lisa was on enough hit lists without him befriending her. He wasn't about to risk her life on some stupid fantasy. He knew better than that. He was better than that.

Too bad his traitorous heart couldn't stop imagining Lisa's curvy body moving against his own in a rhythm only they knew. He wanted her.

Was it a case of simple jealousy? Or did he really want her?

Jackson Rippner didn't know the answer for once in his life. Not knowing disturbed the unflappable manager just like being around Lisa Reisert tended to throw him off balance.

* * *

Lisa slipped into the bathroom first thing in the morning. Her body ached, both from her mad duck at her apartment and Tony's idea of comfort. He'd been unusually rough, which he claimed was because he thought he'd lost her. She didn't believe him.

She soaked in the warm water, her green eyes closed tightly. She couldn't remember when the last time was that she had done something for herself. Even something as simple as taking a long, hot bath or having her nails professionally done. Her last haircut was over three months ago and she'd done it herself, just trimming off the ends a bit.

Sure, her hair was a bit uneven. Did she care? Not really. The advantage to curls was that an uneven cut wasn't noticeable—unless one straightened out said curls. Lisa tucked her flat iron away in order to resist the urge.

In the past five years, she'd gotten used to sharing her personal life. Immediately after the bombing, Lisa found herself thrust into the national media spotlight with reporters camping outside her father's house and her apartment as well as constant phone calls and paparazzi following her every move. And that was before the police and FBI were involved.

She barely had time to think, let alone do anything for herself. Then she fell for Tony.

There wasn't a break between the flight and her engagement. Tony charmed her, seduced her, and made her feel safe, loved, and protected. He was everything she wanted in a man and everything she'd hoped Jackson Rippner would be.

_Stop it! He's a killer, remember?_

But in a way, so was Tony. He carried a gun. He'd been trained to kill if necessary. He probably had killed.

And so had Lisa. Except, her weapon wasn't a lethal steel contraption meant to kill but rather a two-ton Jeep meant for transportation.

_Stop it, Lisa. You're driving yourself insane. Tony is NOTHING like him. He's law enforcement, not a terrorist. And neither are you. It was self-defense. Even the courts agreed, remember? You are not a killer…_

But she was sleeping with one.

**Author's Notes:**

I decided to hint at Tony's darker side in this chapter. Lisa's starting to see the cracks now, which means her life could very well be in danger. By the way, an intrepid reviewer noticed that I had named him Timothy in the first chapter, then switched to Anthony. Sorry for any confusion that might have caused. His name will be Anthony from here on out.

Jackie boy needs to get laid. He's got a little too much unresolved sexual tension with our heroine. Which means, he's gonna do something stupid. Soon.

The allusions between Tony and Jackson are deliberate. Tony's more like him than Lisa would care to openly admit—she's been keeping a blind eye to it. But now that she's been shot at, his perfect façade is going to shatter.

Hang in there. There should be another chapter soon. I think chapter 5 will be when Lisa and Jackson finally meet face-to-face. The next chapter will skip in time a bit.

Thanks so much for all the reviews so far! Please keep them coming!

Tina – Thanks so much! :)

Mj – Sorry for the shortness. Future chapters should be longer. Thanks for reviewing! :)


	4. Chapter Four

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** The usual. I own nothing.

**Chapter Four**

Weeks passed without any word regarding the shooting. Tony kept her sheltered inside his place, insisting that it wasn't safe for her to return to her apartment until the shooter was apprehended. By this time, they were less than three weeks from their wedding.

Lisa tried to ignore him and his tightening rein over her. She knew he meant well, but his constant presence was suffocating her.

Instead of fussing over his oddities, she threw herself into the final preparations. She still had a final dress fitting to schedule for herself and her bridesmaids. Her former co-worker and closest friend, Cynthia Winters, agreed to be Lisa's maid of honor. The two of them still hung out routinely despite Lisa's forced resignation at the Lux Atlantic following the attack.

Cynthia, as loveable and airheaded as always, stuck by her side even after the reporters and cameras left. She was a true friend. She even encouraged Lisa to date Tony and to go out for a girls' night at least twice a month. Sometimes they went to the movies. Other times they got drinks. No matter what, Cynthia never left Lisa's side. They were a pair.

When men tried to pick her up, Lisa pretended to be Cynthia's lover. Cynthia, especially after a few drinks, thought it was hilarious. It was a game between them; an understanding among friends.

Still, Lisa dreaded the actual day of her wedding. She needed to pack for her honeymoon still and make sure all of her bills were paid up for the next three months. She didn't want to lose her home in case this marriage was a mistake.

_Why am I thinking like this? Is it a mistake? Or am I being paranoid?_

* * *

Three days after the shooting, Anthony Greene waited in a dark alley for his contact to show up. Shortly after dusk, the man shuffled in, his beady eyes darting around. He wore the garb of a homeless man on the street in sharp contrast to Tony's blue jeans and button-down.

"Joe," he greeted the man.

He nodded in greeting.

"I need to talk to you about an incident that happened last week. The night after my big bust, someone tried to kill my fiancée. Do you know anything about that?" Tony asked with a dark edge to his voice.

"The Reisert whore?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Yes. What do you know?"

"I 'eard it was to teach you a lesson. 'bout takin' money that ain't yours…"

"From who?"

"The way I 'eard it, it's 'em Committee folks. Committee for Social Change or something'."

Tony nodded and pressed a wad of bills into Joe's palm. "Thank you. Do you know how much they want?"

"Two hundred grand or your girlfriend gets a coffin."

* * *

Jackson poured over Greene's file one day while Lisa was out running wedding errands. He'd settled down since the shooting and avoiding staking out Greene's place at night since. He couldn't deal with seeing or hearing Lisa fuck Greene night after night.

It didn't take long for Jackson to see why his employers wanted Anthony Greene gone. According to one informant, he'd been stealing money from his bosses on the side—hundreds of thousands of dollars.

In exchange for money, Greene often looked the other way or fabricated evidence against certain criminals. He had a long-standing contract with a few unsavory mob-type groups, including some particularly vicious Cubans.

But it wasn't the Cubans after his head—and the money. It was Jackson's own bosses. A subsidiary of the shadow company known as the Committee for Social Change had put out the hit on Lisa Reisert as a means to urge Greene to pay up. The Committee, according to the file, kept Greene's real boss and Internal Affairs from breathing down his neck in exchange for a fee.

The fee had gone unpaid. Jackson was to collect that fee or turn Greene in.

Either way, the higher-ups suggested that Lisa be used against Greene.

Jackson logged into his laptop, connected to the Committee's server, and pulled up all the current orders with Lisa's name on them.

In those sensitive files, he found the orders to shoot her. He also found an order for abduction scheduled in a few weeks' time. Along with that, was an order for torture.

It seemed the Committee wanted Lisa gone regardless of her involvement with Greene and his schemes. The money seemed to be a secondary concern. It was an excuse to murder Lisa Reisert.

And Jackson wasn't about to let that happen. Lisa was _his_.

* * *

Following a successful raid, Tony slipped a few stacks of money and close to two kilos of high-grade cocaine under his flak jacket. He walked out of the crime scene with the money and drugs. A few hours later, he had close to a quarter million dollars from the cocaine sales.

He pocketed most of the money. He didn't think the Committee would really kill Lisa. All the same, he wanted to smooth things over a bit. But not much.

Tony paid them seventy-five thousand—a down-payment of sorts.

His boss wasn't pleased. "I know things are tight at the moment, but unless you want your wedding to become a funeral, I need more than this. You owe us over a million."

"What? Joe said it was only two hundred grand!"

"That was before we did some checking. You've been cheating us, Greene. We don't like to be cheated out of our money. Remember, we are all that stands between you and a long prison term. If you want to have your life outside of barbed wire, you need to listen."

"What do you have in mind?" Tony asked.

"I know of a big deal about to go down. I was thinking you could go down with a few of the boys and conduct a raid. Bring all the profits straight to me and I'll let your girl live a little longer."

"Fine. When and where?"

* * *

After lunch with Cynthia, Lisa headed to her car. She unlocked the doors with her remote and was about to slip inside when Cynthia called her name. She looked up, noticing a bright pink shopping bag in her friend's hands. Lisa blushed red.

She'd left her Victoria's Secret bag in the restaurant. Most of the lingerie wasn't racy, but just the name or the distinctive pink bag made men wonder what was inside or underneath her clothes. It made her skin crawl. Had the shop not been next to the restaurant, Lisa would have left it in the car.

She jogged over to her friend, thanking her profusely.

As Lisa turned to walk back to her convertible—an engagement gift from Tony—the car disappeared in a flash of smoke, fire, and noise.

* * *

Across the parking lot, Rippner watched her car explode.

This wasn't the work of the Committee. It wasn't nearly subtle enough. Someone else found out about Greene's sticky fingers. Someone else wanted a piece of Anthony Greene. Or possibly Lisa.

Except the car was registered under Tony's name…which meant he could have been the target.

Right?

Jackson's gut didn't think so. It told him it was time to do some in depth research. It was time to meet Tony Greene.

* * *

The next day, Jackson approached Greene. He walked boldly into the FBI field office dressed in a plain disguise as a drug addict complete with the bad case of body odor and the shakes of an addict in need of a fix. He claimed he wanted to be an informant and he needed to talk to Greene and only Greene.

Sure enough, greedy Greene met with him in an interrogation room.

Jackson kept up the act, playing a user of meth, cocaine, and heroin. He admitted to being buddies with a dealer who sold the good stuff from across the border.

"And in exchange, what do you want from the FBI?"

"A little somethin' somethin' every now and then if ya know what I mean," he lied, twitching more than before.

Greene nodded discreetly. "I think we could arrange that. When does your friend get his next shipment?"

"Two weeks…"

"Would you be willing to do a buy for us?"

Jackson nodded. "Sure thing, sir."

He could literally see the dollar signs in Tony Greene's eyes. This was easier than taking candy from a baby.

_I'll protect you, Leese. After all, I did promise to steal you. You know me… I keep my promises._

**Author's Notes:**

Whew, that chapter literally flew out of my fingertips in about 15 minutes. Hopefully it's not too confusing. If you have a question, please ask. Also, reviews make me very happy and help get my tired fingers working. Trust me, I'd rather be pounding out a chapter of this than doing law briefs or essays.

Anywho, the next chapter will be the confrontation between Jackson and Lisa! :) Please keep the reviews coming!


	5. Chapter Five

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Red Eye. _If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction.

**Chapter Five**

Lisa Reisert slipped into her apartment. Tony already bought a replacement front door and instructed workers to put it in. The crime scene tape was finally gone from the front door and all of the shots had been covered up. It was almost as if it never happened.

When her car exploded, she filed reports with the police and then had Cynthia drop her off. She didn't want to let Anthony know just yet. There were a few things she wanted to collect from her apartment before Tony locked her up for good. Of course he would say it was for her own protection. After two near-death incidents, she doubted her fiancé would ever let her out of his sight until whoever was behind this was caught.

Even then, she knew Tony would be even more overprotective and suffocating than usual.

What had changed in those past five years? When had Tony become her father?

She took a seat on her couch. On her coffee table, there were a few photographs of her with Tony from the early months of their dating. It had been at least two months after the flight, as Tony's investigation was winding down, before he asked her to dinner.

By then, her physical wounds had healed, but the emotional scars inflicted by Jackson Rippner remained. Tony coaxed her out of her little shell and back into the living world. He showed her that life wasn't horrible. He introduced her to new cuisine, dancing, fine fashion, and just life. He came from a successful family who kept him living well above the standard FBI agent's means.

But it wasn't the money that caught her eye. It wasn't the badge either. It was how he managed to make her feel like she was the only woman in the world. How Tony could look at her after knowing what she went through with Jackson Rippner. He was the only decent man to ever show interest in her.

He made her feel special. That was what caught her eye.

That's not to say he wasn't good-looking or charming. He was. Tony had dark hair and a darker complexion like most of his Italian family as well as a killer smile. And he was great with people—even better than her. He would have been an excellent hotel manager.

_The restaurant was a mixture of high-class and family fare. They'd been on several, informal dates before now. This was the first official one where Lisa spent hours fussing over her appearance, despite the fact that Tony had seen her at her worst. He was one of the first agents on the scene the day Jackson Rippner attacked her._

_But instead of repulsing him, he admired her "courage" as he called it. He praised how well she'd worked under pressure to not only save her own life and her father's, but to protect the Keefe family from long-distance._

_Which was why she now sat across from him in a brand new, dark blue dress. He'd ordered a bottle of red wine, which they shared, and even smiled when she chose a pasta dish with chicken as well as a side salad._

_"I like a woman with a healthy appetite," he said once the waiter left with their orders. _

_Lisa blushed. "I didn't—"_

_"No, really, it's fine. I'm glad you're not one of those girls who think they need to starve themselves. You're gorgeous how you are, Lisa. I wouldn't change a single thing about you."_

Lisa could be herself around him. He thought she was funny, smart, and sexy. More than once, he told her how hot she looked even in her business clothes. He didn't push her to wear skintight or revealing clothes. When she wore more seductive clothing, he spent extra time complimenting her. After a while, she took more of an interest in style and fashion and found herself buying more fitted and low-cut outfits that made her feel pretty and definitely caught Tony's eyes. After her little shopping spree, she noticed his eyes lingering a little bit longer than usual.

_"Do you know how fucking hot you are?" he muttered, his lips pressed against her neck, his hands sliding up underneath her shirt._

_"No…"_

_"You've got a great ass…"_

_"Tony!" she giggled, his teeth nipping at her ear. Her face was bright red with embarrassment. "I don't…"_

_"No, seriously, you've got a great ass…"_

_He cupped the ass in question and pinched it. Lisa squealed._

_"You're so different from the other girls I've dated. All of them seemed to know they were hot. But you… you're nothing like them. You don't seem to notice how fucking hot you are, Lisa. What we have… it's special. I'm so lucky I found you, babe…"_

_"No, I'm not. I'm a mess…"_

_He touched her cheek. "You look just as pretty without all that makeup caked on your face. So sexy and cute. Especially right now, with your cheeks all flushed and your hair…"_

_"Stop it. I look awful…"_

_Tony's hands trailed down her ass to her legs. He stopped at her knees then traveled back up her thighs, caressing the skin hidden underneath her plain skirt. She couldn't help but moan with pleasure._

_"Do you know how bad I want to fuck you right now?" he whispered in her ear._

_"No… How bad?" she breathed._

_"I know you want me too. I can feel your heart racing and…" His fingers moved higher. "Oh, you're so warm…"_

_"Tony…"_

_"Do you ache for me, Lisa? Like I ache for you?"_

_His touch sent shivers through her body. Her nerves were on fire._

_"Yes…"_

_"Hmm, what do you want to do about it?"_

Tony also respected her boundaries. He allowed her to set the pace. However, they'd only been together for just over three months before Lisa finally slept with him. Sure, they'd been flirting since they met, kissing and making out since the beginning of their dating, and even other sexual things, but she'd put off having sex. After the rape, she didn't really want sex.

Tony awoke a feeling, a hunger, and a need within Lisa. He could literally force her to melt with a touch. And that first time, at his place, was perhaps the best sex she'd had. Instead of reliving the rape over and over again, she created new memories despite her initial hesitation. Now that she thought about it, he did encourage sex from early on in their relationship. He never forced her, but he suggested it.

But even then, even with Tony as her committed boyfriend (and later, fiancé after two and a half years of dating), Lisa couldn't stop thinking about the man who brought her and Tony together. If she ever saw Jackson Rippner again, she didn't know if she would thank him or kill him.

* * *

Jackson waited outside of Lisa's apartment for a few minutes. The shades and curtains were drawn, masking her movements. But given what he knew, he couldn't waste any more time. Not after her car blew up that morning. This was his last chance to warn her.

He stepped out of his compact rental car, straightened his suit jacket, tucked in his shirt, a gun slipped in the back waistband underneath his jacket. He hoped he didn't have the use the weapon—either against Lisa or a bystander—for protection.

Taking a deep breath, Jackson mounted the stairs, praying that Lisa was still okay and that for once in her life she would listen to him and to logic.

* * *

Lisa groaned at the sound of a fist knocking on her door. "Who is it?"

The person knocked again.

"Hello?" she tried, stepping toward the door. Her fingers tightened around a heavy vase filled with dead flowers.

The knocking continued. Lisa cursed the lack of a peephole as she drew up back the dead bolt.

Her fingers trembled as she turned the knob, her free hand clutching the vase.

"Hello, Leese," a man said, his lanky frame coming into view.

She froze in her tracks. Jackson Rippner was at her front door. He'd finally come to kill her.

**Author's Notes:**

I just wanted to point out that Lisa doesn't have much experience with men. She's not used to attention, so Anthony really swept her off her feet with his charm. Deep down she has doubts, but she loves the way he makes her feel. He seems to be perfect in her eyes. She doesn't know how much he's playing her, but she's starting to see the cracks.

I decided to split the JxL confrontation between two chapters, but no worries, chapter six should be up over the weekend.

Many, many, MANY thanks to **plays-with-stars**, another _Red Eye_ fanfic writer, who helped me make Tony less of a creep. I couldn't have done it without her.

As always, thanks for the reviews and the interest. You guys rock! Also, I'm making a series of blogs of sort as I write with some hints about what's to come and extra background. Let me know if you enjoy these or things you want to know about this or other stories. There's a link on my profile page to the first one – a look at Tony Greene.

Lily – I agree. I really agree… Thanks! :)


	6. Chapter Six

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to_ Red Eye_. I sure wish I did.

**Chapter Six**

With a scream, Lisa tossed the vase at his face. She grabbed ahold of the front door, trying to shove it closed, but she was too slow. Jackson edged in with his foot.

Lisa lashed out at him, kicking his shin. He didn't stop as he wrapped an arm around her throat. Pain had no effect on him this time.

They fell to the floor with a crash, her lithe frame wriggling.

He pinned her to the floor, wrists held tightly in one hand and her mouth covered with the other. He straddled her hips, bringing their bodies into close contact.

"Stop screaming. I'm not here to kill you," he soothed, his voice as silky-smooth as she remembered. Apparently the damage she caused had been repaired over time.

She yelled against his hand, tossing her head in defiance.

"Okay, fine. Then you'll just have to listen."

He didn't move from her. She wished he would. After all these years, after all the nightmares and dreams, here he was again.

"Now, then…let's get down to business. I don't need anything from you this time, so don't fret. Your father's perfectly fine. But you… I've been watching you, Lisa. Your life is in danger."

She rolled her eyes. _Tell me something I DON'T know…_

He shifted a bit. "I know you won't believe me, but I have to tell you some bad news. Greene isn't who he appears to be. He is using you, Leese. He doesn't love you."

* * *

The hatred in her eyes burned him.

"He's working for my old bosses. He's crooked. He's also in debt, Leese. And your life is the collateral. Do you understand me? If you don't leave, you're going to die."

He loosened his hand over her mouth.

"Liar… you're just—"

He clamped her mouth shut again. "I'm trying to help you, Leese. If you're too stupid to listen to me, fine."

His hand left her mouth and reached for the gun. She started to insult him, but Jackson didn't care as he leveled the gun at her.

The appearance of the weapon caused her to freeze, her mouth open in mid-sentence. Lisa Reisert was speechless for once in her life.

"Are you going to listen to me now?"

* * *

She nodded, afraid to speak. _He's here to kill me, isn't he? Why didn't I tell Tony where I was going?_

Lisa always knew there was a chance Jackson would return for her. She'd been expecting it since she learned he survived—only to escape custody.

"Did you… was it you…?" she asked.

He cocked his head at her. "Do what, Leese?"

"Did you shoot at me?"

"No."

"And my car?"

"Not me, Leese. You see, if I wanted you dead, I would walk up to you either at work or while you were sleeping, and I'd slit your throat. I wouldn't try to blow up your car or shoot you from across the road. That's not my style," he insisted.

The scary part of this conversation was that she believed him. A part of her knew he was telling the truth.

"Tony wouldn't—"

"He's not who you think he is. Yes, he's FBI. Yes, he's done good things. I'm sure you've even got good memories of him. But he's using you. Don't you see? He doesn't give a damn about you. You're a piece of property, Leese. You're just a trophy to him."

"That's not true! You're just jealous—"

"Jealous of what? Huh?" he insisted, moving closer. "Jealous that he steals drugs? Steals money? He lets people like me walk away for the right amount of cash. Did you know that?"

"Please, Jack… stop… just stop lying…"

"I never lie, Leese. I thought you knew that by now."

"You're hurting me."

His blue eyes flicked down, staring at her wrists. They were turning red from his grasp. Surprisingly, he let go.

Lisa pulled away, rubbing her wrists as he sat across from her with the gun still in his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just… I want to protect you."

She glanced at the door, wondering if she could make it. Yes, he had a gun, but would he actually pull the trigger? Did she want to risk it?

She couldn't help it. Curiosity took hold. She could always run later if she had to.

"Why? Why me? Why now?" she demanded.

"Why not?" her captor asked with a Cheshire grin.

"Because… because you're a killer! You already tried to kill me once. Why should I trust you?"

He sighed. "If you must know, I was hired to investigate your boyfriend's sticky fingers. My employers aren't happy. So I start doing research. He's got a big gambling problem. He's lost almost a million. These guys… they want their money, Leese."

"And what does this have to do with me?"

"If he doesn't pay up, there are orders to kill you. As a message for him." His blue eyes closed, his face drawn tight. "Those orders… they aren't pretty. I would never draw out your death like they will."

"What are you suggesting? Are you offering to kill me?"

Jackson shook his head. "No, I'm offering to save you. Come with me, Lisa."

"I can't. I'm going to get married—"

"To a man who doesn't love you."

"You're wrong about Tony. He loves me. He really loves me," she insisted.

He crossed the living room and picked up a picture frame. "First off, his name isn't even Anthony Greene. He's only rich because he steals from criminals. He deals the very same drugs that he seizes. He pockets money recovered from raids."

"He wouldn't do that."

"Do you even know anything about him? I didn't think you were the type to marry a stranger."

"He's not a stranger! I know him. You're the one who's confused. Tony would never do what you're talking about. He's nothing like you!"

"What will it take for me to prove this to you?"

"Nothing. I know Tony. I trust him."

"No, Leese, you don't. If you trusted him, you'd have run."

"I _do_ trust him. I don't trust you."

He rolled his blue eyes. "If you want to date a crook, you could do a lot better than Greene. Like me, for example."

"He's _not_ a criminal!"

Jackson shifted closer to her. "Fine. Think what you want. Whether you like it or not, you're coming with me."

"No!"

He pulled her to her feet, the gun in one hand and her right wrist in the other. "Leese, you don't want daddy to be all alone, do you? Think about him… learning that his lovely daughter was murdered, dismembered, and…" He leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear. "Raped…"

She shivered in his grasp. "No… no…"

"Last chance. Are you going to come with me? Or do I have to steal you?"

Lisa looked right into his face. "I'll never go anywhere with you."

"Suit yourself then," he muttered.

Before she could react, the handgun slammed into the side of her head. Pain exploded in her temple. She could feel herself falling toward the ground. As she slipped out of consciousness, she could feel hands stroking her head and holding her limp body.

"Sssh, Leese… rest now…"

**Author's Notes:**

I made a trailer of sorts for this story. The link is on my profile page. I'll probably make another teaser for either this story or the sequel to _Newfound Clarity_. Anyways, I'll try and get going on a new chapter once I make it through mid-terms.

You guys rock! Keep the reviews coming!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Red Eye_.

**Chapter Seven**

He didn't want to hurt her. That wasn't part of his plan. He'd forgotten how stubborn she was. He just hoped she'd forgive him later.

_Whoa, what? Forgiveness? I didn't do anything wrong. I'm just trying to help her. Stop being ridiculous, Rippner…_

He brushed the hair out of her eyes gently as he laid her still body on the couch. To cover up his actions, he would have to destroy her clean, little apartment. It would buy them time if Greene thought she'd been abducted or murdered.

_Sorry again…_

Jackson slipped on a pair of gloves. With one vicious swipe, the photographs of Lisa and Greene went flying off the coffee table. Several of the frames shattered in the fall. The rest he stepped on, cracking the glass soundly.

He rifled through the rest of her belongings, tossing breakable objects around and tucking others into his pockets. He even slashed a few cushions with one of her kitchen knives.

The bedroom received the worst treatment. He tore the sheets off the bed, making it appear he'd attacked her in her bed, possibly even raping her.

He tossed a few outfits into a plastic store bag, knowing Lisa would be furious that he'd been through her clothes at first, but grateful later. He deposited the spare clothes and his precious sleeping Lisa into his car. He strapped her into the front passenger seat, using his jacket to cushion her head against the window.

A few pieces of jewelry, ones that were likely gifts from her family, went into his pockets as he made a final sweep of the apartment. Satisfied with his job, he dumped out her purse and pocketed her wallet. He also took the bright pink bag on the kitchen counter.

Smiling, Jackson tossed a bottle of liquor into the bedroom. The glass bottle broke on impact, soaking the room. As the stench of alcohol filled the apartment, he tossed a bottle of oil into the living room.

He struck a match, tossed into the pool of liquid near her front door, and walked out.

* * *

Once again the authorities had beaten him.

Tony Greene shifted his sedan into park behind a fire truck. He approached the burning building without much caution. Sure enough, the block of apartments on fire contained Lisa's. Her cell phone had gone unanswered and Joseph Reisert hadn't seen her.

_Why would you come back here?_

"You can't be here!" a firefighter dressed in yellow shouted, blocking his path.

Tony flipped out his badge. "Agent Greene, FBI. Where's Lisa Reisert?"

"Who?"

"Lisa Reisert! Where is she?"

"I don't know. We're trying to clear the building—"

"That's her apartment!" he said, pointing out a room filled with flame. "Where is she?"

"Sorry, but I don't know."

"Who's in charge?" Greene demanded.

The firefighter shrugged.

With a scowl, Greene stalked closer to the building just as the fire reached a tank of either oxygen or some type of fuel. The resulting blast blew out several windows and threw him backward from the force.

* * *

Lisa woke up with her head throbbing, much like it had five years before on a hellish airplane flight. Had the last five years been a dream caused by a concussion? She considered it when her eyes rested on her captor.

_Please let me be dreaming… Let me wake up anywhere else. Anywhere but here…_

"How's the head?" he asked, almost too cheery to be believe.

"What did you hit me with?"

"A gun. Sorry for that little… welt," he muttered, touching a spot on her head. Lisa jumped, crying out in pain.

"Sorry. It's still tender, huh?"

She glared at him. "Did you eat a canary?"

"What?"

"Did… you… eat… a… canary…?" she asked slowly, as if she were talking to a little child.

"Why would you ask that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Then get that shit-eating grin off your face!"

"Language, Leese."

"Oh, so now you're giving me a lesson in manners? How sweet, considering that you're a fucking killer!"  
The car rolled to a stop. Jackson shifted the gearstick into Park before turning to face her. "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a cold-blooded killer. I know you don't believe me, but it's the truth. Have I ever lied to you?"

"Yes!"

He shook his head, almost, was that disappointment on his face?

"Not intentionally. I never meant to mislead you. I honestly was attracted to you back then. Anything I did to you it was because of the job. How many asses have you kissed at your job, Leese? How many times did you pretend that you were in the wrong to deal with a customer?"

"I never lied about my job."

"But you lied," he insisted. "To everyone. All the time. You're still lying now. Only this time you're trying to cover for someone else's mistakes—someone who doesn't deserve it. If anyone is the villain here, it's Greene."

"You don't even know him!"

He snorted. "What did I tell you before?"

"Lies. You told me stories so that I'd turn my back on my fiancé."

"Tell the damn truth for once in your pathetic existence, Leese. You had doubts before I said anything. Something always seemed off, didn't it? That's why you went to your apartment…"

"Stop it."

"You don't trust him. Has he hurt you?"

_"Did someone do that to you?" _echoed in her mind.

"No!"

"You can tell me, Leese. There shouldn't be any secrets between us. Let's put all the cards out on the table, so to speak, shall we?"

"I love Tony."

"Then why haven't you run?" he pointed out.

Lisa frowned. "What?"

He gestured to the car door. "You never tried it. We've been sitting for several minutes. You never once tried that handle."

"I…I assumed it was locked."

"No, you didn't. I know you, Lisa Henrietta Reisert. I know more about you than Greene ever will. You don't want to run. You don't want to leave without the answers."

"I—"

He smirked, that awful, smug look she always associated with him. She wanted to smack him. She did. But with her head still spinning, she wasn't going to even try.

"I know that secret side you keep hidden. I've seen the real you. Where's my feisty Lisa? Where's daddy's little girl? Where did you go, hmm?"

He touched her cheek. She jerked back, slipping further into the seat and in turn, his jacket. It smelled good—a touch of cologne and…fabric softener?—much like the man sitting beside her.

"Let me go."

"If you really want to leave, I'm not going to stop you. Go ahead. Run back to him."

She didn't even twitch this time. "You're not going to let me go."

"If you really want to die, I won't stop you."

Lisa eyed him and then the door beside her. The handle was just out of reach.

_Could I make it? Or will he shoot me in the back or run me over?_

"Four… three…" he counted.

Her hand grasped the handle, her arm still tangled in his jacket.

"Two…"

_What if he's right? What if Tony's upset the wrong people? What if…?_

"One. Time's up, Leese. What will it be?"

With a heavy heart, Lisa dropped her hand back into her lap. "Where are we going?"

"That's my girl," he said with a smile, patting her leg before putting the car back in gear. They eased off the shoulder and back onto the road as Lisa settled back down in her seat, his jacket over her arms.

* * *

Over two hundred miles away, Tony Greene walked through the charred remains of his fiancée's apartment. So far, only two bodies had been recovered. However, given the heat of the fire and the damage to the apartment, the firefighters did say there was a chance she perished in the fire and was either trapped under rubble and debris or partially incinerated.

He didn't buy their explanations. This was no accident. He knew that the moment he picked his way through her apartment. The damage didn't fit with the fire. Her belongings were scattered about in pieces. Nothing was where it was supposed to be.

Someone did this on purpose. The only question was—did they set the fire to kill Lisa or to destroy evidence?

**Author's Notes:**

Seriously, I couldn't resist. Jackson had a little too much fun with the apartment and Lisa is starting to admit a bit that she trusts him—or at least she doesn't want to run just yet. I'm enjoying my mind games. Are you?

I've got midterms all week, so don't be too shocked if it takes a while to see a new chapter. I sometimes write more during exams week, but sometimes I sleep more, so we'll see! Thanks for all the reviews!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything.

**Chapter Eight**

_Fall 1984_

Nicolai Petrov dropped his backpack just inside the front door of the tiny apartment. He called out to his mother, babbling in rapid-fire Russian.

There was no response, except for his older sister, Natasha. "English, Nicolai!" she shouted from the back of the apartment.

Nicolai frowned, not even noticing his younger sisters coming in the door also from school. They were five and six, respectively, while he was barely seven. Natasha was much older being eleven and in middle school. She always turned up her nose at her younger siblings and perfected her English.

They'd only been living in the United States for two years. Their father, Kiril, worked long hours at a factory of some-sort. Usually it was just the four young Petrovs and their mother, a blonde beauty who preferred her native Russian to the new-fangled English spoken by her husband

"Where's mama?" he asked, moving through the apartment. He'd been drawing at school today—a family portrait—and he wanted to show it to her.

"Not here," Natasha answered, stepping into the hallway. "Do your homework, Nicolai. Dad will beat you if it's not done before he gets home."

He flinched.

But even once his homework was done and his father came home, his mother had yet to return. In fact, she never again came home.

_

* * *

_

Spring 1993

After a harsh winter, during which he lost his job, Nicky Peters, as his school friends called him, found himself an orphan.

"Mr. Petrov?" a man asked after he answered the door one evening.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Nicolai replied, all trace of his Russian accident gone. He sounded like a natural American.

"We have some news about your wife. Can we come in?"

He stepped aside, allowing the two uniformed officers past him. He guided them into the living room. "You found my mother?"

"I'm sorry?" the younger of the men asked.

"My mother. My father's wife."

"Oh, actually where is your father?"

Stone-faced, Nicolai said calmly, "He died three years ago. Liver damage."

The police nodded. "We're sorry for your loss…"

"Thank you. Now what about my mother?"

_

* * *

_

Three weeks later

After giving a statement to the police and identifying the remains through her clothing and purse, Nicolai buried his mother beside his father. It took the last bit of his savings from his job to afford the funeral.

He was barely sixteen at the time.

According to the police, his mother had likely been killed the same day she'd disappeared. Her remains were found off the side of a Seattle highway after the snow thawed. When they found her body, her tights were wrapped around her neck. She'd been strangled and dumbed like many local prostitutes had in the late 70s and early 80s.

No one mentioned that she might have been a prostitute to him. But he could read between the lines on his own.

However, finding her killer wouldn't keep a roof over their heads or keep him and his siblings fed. Dropping out of school to work full time—courtesy of a fake ID that stated his age was eighteen—did.

By then, his oldest sister, Natasha, married a much-older man with money. She severed all ties with their family and started fresh. Nicolai couldn't blame her after what happened to their family. That didn't mean he supported her decision in any way.

None of that mattered while he had family to feed.

_

* * *

_

A month later

Despite his best efforts, they were kicked out of their dingy apartment. Even working double-shifts couldn't bring in enough money to keep them fed, clothed, and safe. Once he came down with a cold, he lost his job.

He showed up at his sister's home, their siblings in tow. Natasha refused to take them in and ended up reporting them to Social Services.

Because of her actions, his sisters were taken into foster care. Nicolai ended up in a foster home as well, but he didn't stay more than a few days. He slipped out one night and disappeared into the streets of Seattle.

He wasn't going to stay with a bunch of rejects and a pair of half-assed parents. He had plans for his life. He had goals. He had a family to get back.

_

* * *

_

Late 1990s

The years flew by for Nicolai.

He turned nineteen while living on the streets and despite having a recent growth spurt, he was still as skinny as a rail. Without a shirt on, anyone could count his ribs. He thought that even if he could pick what to eat, he'd still be as malnourished as a toothpick. His father had the same lanky frame until he turned to drinking full-time.

He folded his arms around himself, huddling up against the cold, bitter wind. Snow blew around him, soaking his jeans and threadbare jacket. Black hair fell into his blue eyes, stinging with each breath of wind.

He let out a curse in rapid Russian, accent and all. His language skills were rusty without his younger sisters to speak with. But he couldn't forget his first language. He switched between the two in his thoughts as well as when he was under stress.

Nicolai's latest job was working as a glorified whipping boy at a local fast-food joint. To supplement his income, he learned to pick pockets. He also became very good at listening to other people's conversations.

One day, while he was wiping down tables, he overheard a group of police officers discussing the Green River Killer. Nicolai listened in, only to put two-and-two together.

He knew who killed his mother. He knew why she died.

She'd been murdered by the notorious serial killer. A killer who had so far escaped justice.

Nicolai had a purpose now. He was going to find the man who murdered his mother, a woman he barely remembered, and who tore his family apart. He would find them and kill them.

_

* * *

_

February 2001

Nicolai hooked up with a group of criminals a few years before. During his search, he'd become side-tracked and discovered a knack for planning crimes and even executions.

He also expanded his resume overseas and received a college degree.

By now, he was known for high quality forgery work as well. Before he turned twenty-two, he'd created five other identities for himself—including birth certificates, passports, and driver's licenses. He also earned money forging diplomas and work histories. If it was paper documentation, he could pull it off.

But in 2001, he was up to his ears in work.

This time it was for al Qaeda.

_

* * *

_

Early 2002

At twenty-five, he moved back to Russia. Nicolai Petrov disappeared in the middle of a bleak winter, running from the knowledge that he'd killed countless Americans by providing false identifications for terrorists.

Only the bright spot following the September 11th attacks was the arrest of Gary Leon Ridgeway, the suspected Green River Killer. He didn't give it much thought. His original goal of revenge had been pushed aside in favor of his career.

_

* * *

_

Present Day

Anthony Greene loaded a black nylon bag with stacks of cash. Colored bands secured the money, listing the amount inside each brick. He pulled stack after stack from inside a safe tucked underneath his desk. His apartment was silent with Lisa gone.

He closed the safe, replaced the false drawer front, and locked his office door.

If Lisa was still alive, hopefully being held by the men he owed money, he could arrange for her release.

He had no idea that she wasn't a hostage, or at least, not in the traditional sense.

* * *

Jackson whipped the car into the parking lot of a Wal-Mart.

"Why are we here?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"We passed dozens of restaurants," Lisa protested

He looked over at her. "We're in hiding. We need to get supplies." He touched her distinctive red curls. "And we need to do something about this."

"About what? Oh no… you are not dying my hair!"

* * *

Three hours later, after a lengthy Wal-Mart trip, they checked into a motel. It wasn't a four-star by any stretch of the imagination, but it was clean enough and free of bugs.

Lisa found herself sitting on the closed toilet as Jackson carefully applied hair dye. With steady hands, he lightened her deep red-brown color to a more dirty blonde/strawberry blonde color. For the time being, it would do.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"To disguise—"

She cut him off. "I know about the hair. I meant, why are you helping me? Why did you come back?"

He looked directly into her eyes. "Let's just call it atonement for past sins."

"Like what?"

"Some skeletons are better left buried, Leese. You don't see me interrogating you about your rape, do you?"

She cringed. "I didn't—"

"I'm not proud of what I've done and of who I've been. That's all you need to know."

"What about your name? It's not really Jackson Rippner, is it?"

He sighed. "Why does it matter?"

"If I'm going to trust you, I want to know something that's real about you."

Jackson stared at her, dye bottle still in hand. "I'm trying to help you. That's all you need to know."

He tossed the bottle and gloves away before stalking back into the bedroom.

_Damn you, Leese. Why do you have to ask the questions I can't answer?_

A small hand touched his arm.

"What?" he growled.

"You know all about me. It's only fair that I least know your name."

He looked up at her. She looked ridiculous with her hair turning different colors, the dye job half-assed and messy.

"I suppose you want to know what turned me into a monster, too?"

She glanced at the carpet.

"Some people just are monsters, Leese. Don't try to humanize me. I don't deserve it."

"But you must've—"

"Been someone's kid? Yeah, I was. But that was a hell of a long time ago. I'm not that person, Lisa. That's all you need to know."

"Jack—"

He crossed the room, a quite fury building inside him. He'd forgotten how well she managed to slip underneath his skin and annoy him to no end.

"Jack, please. Just a name…."

"Fine." He turned, blue eyes flashing with anger. "You want a name? I'll give you a damn name. Nick. Call me Nick."

**Author's Notes:**

Jackson was born in 1977 and he's currently thirty-three for those of you who are trying to do the math in your heads. That means he was twenty-eight on the red-eye. He is older than Lisa by a few years.

We'll see more about his past as time goes on. He doesn't like bringing it up at all, which is why he's so hostile to Lisa at the moment. But you can't blame a girl for wanting to know.

The Green River Killer was active at the time his mother disappeared. That part is historically accurate to a degree. Losing your entire family to a single event is rough and that shaped his early life. That doesn't mean it's okay for him to kill, but he knows that. He's trying to deal with that knowledge.

Let me know what you think! I hope the backstory was interesting enough and not too much at once.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Red Eye_.

**Chapter Nine**

"Nick," she whispered, trying the name on for size. It fit him, but at the same time it didn't. "Do you want to be called Nick or Nicholas?"

"I don't care, Leese."

"Why not? What is with you and names?"

He glared at her. "It's a bit different for me than it is for you. I didn't have the cheery childhood with doting parents. I wasn't lying when I said they were dead. In a way, I did kill them."

"What?" She paled further.

"It was a long time ago. You don't need to—"

"How can I trust you if you won't tell me simple things?"

Jackson settled into a chair. "You don't need to know about my past. All you need to know is that I'm here to help. I have a job to do. That job is to keep you alive as long as I can."

"I just… I don't understand—"

He sighed, clearly annoyed with her questions and doubts. "If I wasn't trying to save your life, maybe we could have time for pleasantries. But right now, I need you to stop with the emotional bullshit and think rationally."

"Rationally? If I were thinking rationally I wouldn't be here right now!" Lisa hissed.

"Where would you be? With Tony?" he asked with a sneer.

She turned her green gaze into a glare, focusing quickly on Jackson—or Nick. Whoever the hell that murdering bastard was. Why had she listened to him? Why did she follow him? Why didn't she just go back to Tony?

"Yes and that's where I'm going."

Lisa strode directly for the hotel door. Jackson intervened, blocking her path. "No, you're not."

"What happened to letting me decide?" she protested as his hands closed on her upper arms.

"There's a difference between letting you decide and facilitating suicide. I'm not about to do the latter."

"Let me go!"

"That's not an option anymore, Leese. I thought you knew that."

"You can't keep me here! Tony will—"

He pushed her onto the bed. "He'll what? Pretend to hunt me down? Shed a tear over your disappearance? Get over yourself, Lisa."

She struggled, trying to pull herself free. He merely shifted his weight in response, pinning her down. Her breaths came in quick gasps now; her eyes wide in what could only be considered panic.

"Is this what he does, Leese? Does he force you down, make you do things you'd never want to do? Does he remind you of the man who gave you that horrid scar? Hmm?" he whispered, his lips millimeters away from her ear.

Lisa trembled, her body convulsing as she lay trapped underneath his lean body.

"I heard you one night, Leese. I couldn't stop dreaming about you, about this…" One hand traced her leg, causing her to whimper.

"I'd never hurt you," he promised. "Not like Greene. I'm not like him. I'd never force you…"

"You're hurting me…"

"I'm only trying—I want to help you. I want—no, I _need_ to atone for what I've done. What I did to you five years ago… there's no excuse for that. There's nothing I can say that will erase that. All I can do is change who I am now."

"I can't—"

Blue eyes flickered, giving her a once over. "This is for your own good, Lisa."

* * *

Greene pulled up in front of his usual meeting spot. He checked the duffel bag of money beside him, making sure the cash hadn't suddenly disappeared during the drive. All the colored stacks remained.

He stepped out of the car with the bag in hand and a ski cap pulled over his hair. In his jeans and pullover, he didn't resemble an FBI agent at all. He never did when we wasn't on duty. Some of the people he worked with looked like agents no matter what they wore.

He leaned up against a brick wall, trying not to glance around. He kept the bag in his hand, just in case someone else besides his contact showed.

It only took a few minutes for a car with smoked out windows to roll up beside him. Anthony climbed inside without hesitating.

"You have the money?" asked the man in the front seat.

"Two hundred thousand, like we agreed on."

"Good. That cuts your debt to me in… a quarter."

"Excuse me? That's almost half!" Anthony protested.

"No, you see, that was the old offer. More time has passed, people have been hired, and now it's a million that you owe."

"No way. I'm not paying you a million dollars! I don't have a million dollars!"

"You also told me you didn't have two hundred thousand, but here you are with my money…"

Tony glared at the front of the car. "Why don't you just let my fiancée go and I won't tell the Feds on you? We'll call it even."

His contact laughed. "You're forgetting about the paper trail implicating you in several unsolved crimes…"

"I don't care about that right now. What I want is Lisa back."

"Lisa? We don't have anyone named Lisa."

"What? But—"

"We did go to claim Miss Reisert, as collateral, but the operative sent to secure her reported her apartment in flames."

"If you didn't take her… who did?" Tony demanded.

* * *

His lips pressed against hers, shocking her. She was caught off-guard to the point that she didn't even notice the handcuff encircling her wrist until after it clicked shut.

"What the hell?" she muttered, jerking at the metallic bracelet of sorts.

"I'm sorry."

"You… you tricked me!"

He shrugged, popping off the bed. "No worse than what you've done to me. If I really wanted to torment you, I could have handcuffed you to me… or spread-eagle."

She shivered at the thought of being close to him, breathing in the scent of his fabric softener, deodorant—god, what was that he wore?—and feeling the warmth of his body and perhaps even hearing his heartbeat. She could be trapped with the human side of Jackson Rippner.

Now why did that sound so good?

_Stockholm syndrome…. That's what they call it. It's not your fault, Lisa. Just hang in there. Tony will find you…_

But to be tied spread-eagle across a bed? She would be completely at his mercy. At least this way she could hit and claw at him with her free hand. It was better than nothing.

Right?

**Author's Notes:**

It's been an insane month. I'm working on like five separate stories for NaNo (this one included) because I was too sick to actually plan a new story. I've been the hospital once this month already and caught a nasty cold. Thankfully, it's Thanksgiving break and I can finally catch up a bit. Anywho… I will respond to and catch up on all reviews over this break. Enjoy!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Red Eye_.

**Chapter Ten**

She was almost asleep by the time he returned to the bed. The initial shock of being with Jackson and then being handcuffed to a bed had worn off. She was exhausted emotionally from the turmoil of his reappearance and also from the news that her fiancé might just be a killer of sorts.

But none of that meant she was ready to bed down with him. Especially not with a nearly naked Rippner curled up beside her, most likely with a knife at hand.

"Cozy?"

She turned her back to him in response.

The bed shook as he shifted positions. "Don't be afraid, Leese. I need you alive."

_I've heard that before and we all know how well that ended…_

* * *

Anthony Greene sat at his kitchen table. He'd spent too much time and effort gaining Lisa's trust to let her go now. She belonged to him. He would make sure their wedding happened. No matter what he had to do.

Since his secondary boss wasn't behind her disappearance, and it was highly unlikely that she'd run off on her own, that meant one of his enemies had his fiancée.

As an FBI agent, he'd put a lot of men and women behind bars. He'd destroyed lives and families. However, most of the people he apprehended were either still serving time or dead. Only a few of them were free. As for Lisa having enemies—she was too damn nice.

Except for the man who brought them together. He'd still be working for Homeland Security when the assassination attempt occurred. Since then he'd transferred out to Vice. At the same time, he gained Lisa's affection.

But it was all because of some eerie blue-eyed terrorist. Rippner was his name—like the London serial killer. Jack Rippner. Jack the Ripper.

Only Lisa wasn't a hooker and she wasn't dead.

Rippner would be her sole enemy. Too bad he was underground and assumed dead.

_Back to the drawing board…_

* * *

Sleeping beside a killer was easier than Lisa expected. Jackson had far better manners than Tony and he didn't even hog the covers. In fact, he kept to the far edge, which puzzled her.

Could he really believe he was helping her? What if he was right? Could Tony be a threat to her life?

_Not Tony. He's one of the good guys. He's FBI…_

_It happens_, the side of her brain that listened to Jackson insisted.

_Not in real life. Not to me…_

* * *

In the morning, Lisa shifted, her arms wrapped around a pillow. It took her a moment to realize that her arms were free—both of her arms.

She stretched, rubbing her sore wrist. The skin was rubbed red and raw, chafed by the metal in her sleep.

That's when she noticed him, dressed in fresh clothes, and watching her with those unnaturally blue eyes of his. She froze, one hand still rubbing the other.

"You looked uncomfortable," her captor said, nodding his head in the direction of her wrist.

Lisa frowned, unsure of what to make of this sudden change in mood. "I thought that was the point."

"No. The point is to keep you alive."

"Why…. Nick?"

"Because," he said through clenched teeth, "it's my job. I need you to stop Greene. Two birds—one stone."

"That makes no sense."

"Too bad. Now get dressed. It's time to go."

* * *

A cordless phone rang, jolting an older man out of his sleep.

Joseph Reisert straightened his eyeglasses and jumped out of his old armchair. It was the only piece of furniture that he kept during the divorce. It was the only piece he really cared about. He snatched the phone from its base, trying to ignore the ache in his bones.

He really needed to stop sleeping in the chair.

"Leese? That you?"

"No, Mr. Reisert. It's Anthony."

He frowned. Lisa's fiancé didn't usually call. He wasn't one for small talk, even at the dinners they'd shared both at the Reisert house and out at restaurants. "Anthony, what's going on? I haven't heard from Lisa in a few days. You didn't elope, did you?"

Part of him hoped they had eloped, despite the fact that Lisa seemed to have a severe case of cold feet. She wasn't the type to disappear without a word.

"No, no, sir."

"Then why is her phone off?"

"That's actually why I was calling. I was wondering if she was staying with you…"

Joe frowned, a strong feeling in his gut telling him Lisa was in danger. "No, she's not. What's going on?"

"I guess you didn't hear about her apartment then…"

"What happened, Anthony? Where's my daughter?"

There was a long pause. "Someone blew up her apartment, Mr. Reisert. It doesn't look like she was home at the time, but no one's seen or heard from her since. She hasn't been to work. I hoped she'd just gone to stay with you…"

"I haven't seen Lisa since we had lunch last week."

"Okay. I'm sorry to worry you like this…"

"No, I want to know. Where is Lisa?"

"Gone. Completely gone."

"Is my daughter dead?" Joe Reisert demanded, his voice rough. "Is she dead?"

"I don't know."

"Then what the hell do you know?"

"Not enough, sir. Not enough…"

* * *

"Where are we going?" Lisa asked as he started the car's engine.

"You'll see."

"When?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "When we get there."

"Get where?"

"You'll see."

"Seriously, where are we going?" she asked again.

He glanced over at her. "You'll figure it out when we get there¸ not before."

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"Because you don't need to know."

"Yes, I do."

_Insufferable bitch…_

"If you don't stop asking stupid questions, Leese, I will tape your mouth shut. You don't want that, do you?"

She narrowed her eyes, mocking him. "Try it."

He'd never been one to turn down a dare. Even as a school boy, he climbed impossible trees, leapt from awkward heights, and fought other students more than twice his size. He never met a challenge he didn't like. Lisa Reisert was nothing if not a challenge.

Jackson was on her in a matter of seconds, both of them fighting for space in the cramped front seat. As he held her down, he yanked off his silk tie.

Lisa tried to bite and claw him as he snared her wrists. But she didn't win.

As the car rocked back-and-forth, he bound her hands together tightly. From the glove box, he yanked out a roll of silver duct tape. Jackson ripped a piece off, blocking out her string of curses.

She tried to wriggle away from him.

"Aww, c'mon, Leese… you asked for it…" he taunted, one hand gripping her chin as she turned away from him like a turtle tucking inside its shell.

He spun her around, both their bodies heaving from the short fight. She stared deep into his eyes, as if she could see his soul. For some reason, it angered him.

Jackson slapped the tape on. She mumbled something unintelligible, but resembled a "fuck you" all the same.

"Was that an offer?"

Her response? Most definitely something about him being a bastard.

"Language doesn't suit you, Leese."

**Author's Notes:**

Short, but hopefully it was enjoyable. Coming up, Jackson's going to move up his drug deal with Tony. Also, Tony does some digging on Jackson Rippner and learns who he really is while Jackson tells Lisa the truth about Tony and his family. And yes, Tony is American. But he has more in common with Jackson than either of them would like, not to mention Lisa.

**Chapter Eight Reviews**

Lily- It does have an impact on Jackson and it will come back to haunt him.

Inday- Thank you so much! Luckily, we're still a long ways off from the end. I mainly picked the Russian background because it made sense for him to work with Russian terrorists in _Red Eye_ if he actually knew the language. But he does make a good Russian despite the being Irish. Thanks so much!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything familiar.

**Chapter Eleven**

Several hours later, Jackson checked them into yet another rundown motel. He then dragged her still bound and gagged self to their new room, which had an outside door around the corner from the manager's office.

Once safely inside, he untied her hands and ripped the tape off. "Are you going to behave now?"

Rubbing her pink lips and cheeks, she nodded.

"Good. Now don't do anything stupid."

He picked up a plain duffel bag and slipped into the bathroom. He left the door cracked, giving Lisa a partial view of him as he changed. She couldn't help but admire his toned body. It was wrong, to ogle another man just before her wedding—not to mention a killer. But she didn't care.

The transformation from smartly dressed businessman to shady druggie stunned Lisa. She's seen him enter the bathroom in a suit and return as a distinctly different person right down to a twitch.

"Withdrawal?" she asked, watching his hand jerk.

"What?" He looked at her in confusion a moment. "Oh, that—yeah. Part of the role."

"And what am I? Your whore? A coked-up stripper?"

He frowned, as if disgusted by the very idea. "None of that. You are going to stay out of sight and out of trouble. This is for you to observe, not to participate in."

"Where exactly are we going?"

"To visit your fiancé. I want you to see the real Anthony Greene—not that his name is that."

Immediately, Lisa jumped on the defensive. "What the hell are you talking about? Tony is a good man—"

"No, Leese. He's a lying, manipulative bastard. For some reason, he wants you. That can't be good. He's dangerous."

"And you're what? A saint?"

"Not exactly," Jackson said with a wry smile. "But I'm not playing you. Not this time."

* * *

He stood on a corner, the hood of his sweatshirt partially obscuring his face. His hand twitched at his side, as if his nervous system was overworked or damaged. All of it fit his role, including his false beard and the cigarette smoke that clung to him like a cloud.

The cigarette put Lisa on the edge. He'd leaned on the car, letting the cigarette burn in his long fingertips. He took an occasional drag, to help make himself fit his character, while Lisa coughed and fanned herself on the other side.

He secretly enjoyed upsetting her just a bit.

But the time for games with Lisa was over. Now her test of curiosity versus loyalty was beginning. Would she run straight to Anthony Greene or would she stay put and watch? Would she listen and then rejoin him? Or would Jackson find her broken-hearted and crying over the man she thought she knew?

He hoped she would stay put. He didn't want her back in Greene's clutches yet—if ever.

* * *

Greene fast-walked. He considered running but wanted to maintain his cover if at all possible. So he kept his pace slow, yet hurried. He'd gotten distracted looking at information from the fire at Lisa's apartment and lost track of time. He only hoped his informant would still be there.

Druggies weren't the best at keeping time, but they were nervous little twits.

He slowed down as he turned the corner.

Leaning against a brick wall, cigarette in hand, was the man who'd appeared in the FBI offices a while back. His tip about a big stash of drugs could be the payday that would help him get Lisa back from his bosses.

The druggie straightened up, took one last drag, and flicked ash on the ground.

"You came."

"A meeting ran long," Greene said. "Now, about our deal…"

"Yeah, about that…" The druggie moved closer, like he was sharing an important secret. "There's been a change in plans. If you want those drugs, ya gotta move today. Trust me…it's some good shit…"

"And what do you want?"

"Me? Just a cut o' the profits… or a share of the goods."

Greene frowned. He preferred to hand his drug informants cash. Handing them actually products could get him arrested—especially if word got out. But if this bust was good…

"We'll see. Where's the goods?"

The druggie relaxed, his hand twitching reflexively. He clearly needed a fix. "'round the corner in a safe joint…"

"Where?"

"I'll take you."

* * *

The back room Greene followed his informant into was stacked high with plants, rocks of crystal meth, baggies of heroin, and other drug paraphernalia. It was money-making heaven. He was almost blinded by the dollar signs.

"This is the really good, primo shit. My buddy gets it south of the border. He gave me access to the place, told me to get a few newbies hooked and sellin'…"

"Wow. Now—"

"Payment first," the druggie insisted, a hand out.

Greene pulled out a wad of bills. He pressed it into the druggie's hand before glancing around. "You can have a bit of your choice… just a tiny bit to keep you going. Okay?"

He nodded, reaching for a hunk of crystal meth. "Cool?"

"We're cool, man. I'll go call this in…" Greene said.

The druggie mock-saluted and sauntered out. It was all he could do to keep a straight face. All of the drugs in the room had no street-value. They were either fake or so diluted they couldn't be called a drug. He really needed to thank the props guys next time he went into HQ…they were great at setting up his little stash.

* * *

"What do you mean it's fake?" Greene hissed at his contact. "I just paid a couple grand for this shit!"

"Sorry, man, but this… this…" He touched the white powder. "Flour and sugar mixture with a hint of the real thing. The weed is something else… some other plant… And the crack? Rock candy, dude. You've been had."

Anthony Greene let out a frustrated roar and upended the fold-up table containing a sample of the "seized" drugs. The fake products scattered, some of the baggies ripping. He didn't care. He'd been had by a no-good druggie.

Or was his "informant" even a druggie? What if he was an undercover cop or someone from the OPR? He hated those pocket-protector wearing geeks who nit-picked the rules and scared the shit out of most reasonable agents.

If the druggie was a plant, he was so fucked.

_

* * *

_

Fourteen hours later…

The mansion looked just as imposing as he remembered. Of course, the mansion didn't exactly inspire warm and fuzzy memories. He didn't have many memories of his ancestral home at all, let alone good ones.

It had been another world once and he had been a very different person. That was before his parents split up and his once-beautiful mother crawled inside a bottle to drink her pain away. Since then, he'd finished college, joined the FBI, and become engaged.

Now Anthony came home—not for a heartfelt reunion—but for money. Money he'd lost in a bad drug buy. Money he hoped would free his fiancée and pay off his currents debts.

The polished door swung inwards on silent hinges. The family butler, a man who had to be in his late 50s at least, appeared. "Ah, young Master Anthony. Are you here to see your father?"

"I will be in the sitting room whenever my father deigns to show up, Jasper."

"As you wish, sir. Would you care for a drink?"

"If the bar's still stocked, I'll handle it myself."

He strode down the hallway to one of the various formal reception rooms. Back in the day, this particular room was for his mother's use. She entertained the wives of many powerful people inside its walls.

His stepmother took over a room down the hall, out of respect. He could at least say that much about his father's pricey Russian whore.

_Blonde bimbo…_

His father plucked her from poverty and obscurity in some godforsaken wasteland on the West Coast. He lavished the young woman—who was only a few years older than the old man's only son—with jewels and other expensive gifts. She had it all—minus her family.

After all these years, Anthony had never once met a relative of his stepmother's. She denied having any family but he knew better. It was a perk of being an FBI agent.

Natasha Callahan, formally Natasha Petrov, was the eldest of four children and Russian-born. She had one brother and two younger sisters. Her parents, sadly, were both deceased. There was no record of any sort of contact with her siblings over the years since she married his father.

None of that changed the fact that his stepmother was a stone-cold, gold-digging bitch.

He paced his mother's old parlor, bemoaning the fact that it showed its age. The wallpaper and the fabric on the chairs and sofas were faded from the sunlight. The décor was outdated. The room itself was dusty and stale.

_Stupid old man…_

Anthony suspected that his parents never truly cared for each other. Once his mother lost her looks, the old man went shopping for a newer model. Sooner or later, he'd tire of his Russian bride and replace her. He didn't really care. No matter what, it wouldn't bring his mother back.

"Anthony, what a surprise," a distinguished voice called from the doorway. "It has been far too long since your last visit, my son."

He stiffened immediately. "Hello, father. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

"Oh, nonsense. Natasha and I were just going over some plans for the expansion."

"Expansion?"

"We decided to add on another wing."

"For whom?" he asked, trying to remember the manners his mother had enforced.

"Family quarters of course. Natasha is pregnant."

"Oh, congratulations."

His father smiled. "It was quite a shock for us both actually. And Natasha wanted to extend an invitation to her estranged family for visits—or new quarters. They were dirt poor growing up…"

"She's in contact with them?"

"She sent letters off to both her sisters. Her brother, God rest his soul, seems to have passed on."

"What a shame."

"It is. She is very distraught over the way she treated them all when we were first married. She wants to make up for lost time."

Anthony nodded. "Perhaps, when they arrive, we can all have dinner together."

"That would be splendid! I will make sure you receive an invitation."

"Thank you, father. Now, I'm afraid I have to—"

"How much money do you need this time, Anthony?"

"Just a bit. I ran up a few credit cards on some wedding supplies…"

"Wedding? You're getting married? Who is the lucky young lady?" his father asked with a genuine smile.

"Her name is Lisa. She's wonderful, really."

"I can't wait to meet her."

_You'll have to get in line…_

_

* * *

_

Sixteen hours earlier…

The minute he slipped behind the wheel of his car, reeking of cigarette smoke, she launched herself at him.

"I can't believe you!"

She hit at him, furious. Jackson took the beating for a few moments before gripping her wrists. "I'm sorry, Leese, but you had to know the truth…"

"The truth? The TRUTH?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. You're happy. You want me to hate him."

Jackson sighed, letting go of her wrists. She withdrew to her seat, her eyes still blazing. "Yes, but I never meant to hurt you."

"Hurt me? You've hurt me, Nick. You should have just stabbed me. It would have been kinder."

He flinched, watching her turn her back to him. "I wanted to protect you…"

She sniffled, still hiding her face from him. "Thanks to you, I have a wedding to cancel. How am I supposed to explain to Tony that I can't marry him?"

"Tell him the truth. Tell him you don't love him."

That got her attention. She shifted in the seat, her green eyes finding him. "The truth? Are you high? How do I tell him, 'oh, by the way, I was with a convicted killer and we watched you illegally purchase drugs'?"

"First, I was never convicted…"

"Bullshit, Nick. You faked your death. You would have been convicted."

He shrugged, like it didn't matter. It really didn't. A jury never would have found him guilty. He'd laid the framework for doubt from the beginning. Even the witnesses on the plane would think she'd been the mastermind had he shown his face at trial.

"What I meant, Leese, was to tell him that you don't love him."

"But I still do—"

"No, you don't. If you loved him, you would have gone to him. If you loved him, you wouldn't still be with me."

She frowned. "You're lying."

He crossed his arms. "Go ahead. Run. See if I chase you. I'm not keeping you here, Lisa. You're free to go if you want."

"This is a trick."

"No, no tricks. There's the door."

Lisa took a deep breathe, looking down the alleyway. In response, she clicked her seatbelt. Jackson barely restrained a smile. If only she would open her eyes. She wouldn't—couldn't—leave him. Not after what she'd seen.

He was slowly winning her over. She was starting to not only trust him, but love him.

**Author's Notes:**

Whew, that was a long one to make up for the lag time. And finally we learn more about Greene. This was mostly a Greene chapter. In the next chapter, we'll find out if he gets the money, what he does with it, and whether or not he realizes where Lisa is.

And very soon, Jackson and Lisa will truly be on the run for both their lives.

If you're looking for videos, graphics, etc, check my author's page. As I create things, I add the links there, not always in the story's notes.

Anyways, I hope everyone had great holidays. Mine were full of new electronic gadgets (new MP3 player, matching iHome, mini-laptop, etc.) and books. New year = new chapters and stories. Hang on, it's gonna be a wild month.

Reviews

Lexicon – Thank you so much for the reviews! I try really hard to stay in character, so it's great to know that it's working and the plot is the hardest part about this particular story.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything familar.

**Chapter Twelve**

The elder Callahan pulled a checkbook out of his jacket pocket. "How much do you need to cover the wedding?"

"About fifty grand should cover it."

"Only fifty? You can't throw a decent wedding for fifty grand!" his father said, almost appalled at the small amount. "Tell you what… I'll give you a hundred grand. Consider it my gift to your new bride."

"Father, that's not necessary…"

"No, it is. No son of mine should have a sub-par wedding."

Greene tried not to smile as his father wrote the check. "Lisa will be very surprised."

"You do have to bring her by sometime. I'm sure Natasha would love to meet her."

"How is my stepmother?"

That brought a smile to his father's face. "She's a little more than three months pregnant. Soon you will have a little brother or sister."

He resisted the urge to add the "half" part. He didn't want to offend the old man, not when he was pulling him out of debt.

"I bet she's excited. Now what is going on with her family?"

"She has decided to invite them to move in. After all, we do have the space… unless you and Lisa would care to—"

"No, I don't want to intrude."

Greene's father nodded. "She did find out that both her parents are dead. She's still searching for her brother, Nicolai. He was the closest in age to her. She turned him and their sisters in to Social Services after their father passed."

"Perhaps he doesn't want to be found."

"Do you think you could take a look? It would mean a lot to Natasha…"

"I could try. What was his name again?"

"Nicolai Petrov. Sometimes he went by Nicky Peters. She said he was the best at blending in by the time she last saw him. No trace of an accent."

"Does she have any pictures I could see?"

"Of course." He got up and walked over to an intercom. "Natasha, darling, could you come down to the old parlor for a moment? Anthony is here and he wants to ask you some questions about your brother."

"I'll be right there," a female voice with a Russian lilt answered. "Do I bring the pictures?"

"Please."

* * *

In the car, Lisa shifted in her seat. Jackson still stank of cigarette smoke, which tickled her nose.

"Could you sit still for a moment?" he asked, not looking at her.

"We've been here for hours! Aren't we going to at least stop for food?"

"I thought you were enjoying my company."

She scoffed. "Unless you want me to eat you, I suggest we stop soon."

"What's bothering you?"

"I'm hungry!"

"It's more than that. It's Greene, isn't it?" he probed, risking a glance over at her. "You want to contact him. Give him a second chance."

"I can't just throw a five year relationship down the toilet because you said so! Plus, what if he was just trying to set you up? What if he wasn't really trying to buy drugs?"

"Leese…"

She glared over at him. "He's a good guy. He protected me after… you."

"Protected you?" Jackson snorted. "That's a good one. Really. If he was protecting you, why does he order you around? Force you to stay put? Or… and this is the kicker…rape you?"

There was a crack that echoed in the car as she slapped him hard on the cheek.

Jackson depressed the brake pedal and turned the wheel. He eased the car to a stop on the side of the highway. Other cars zoomed past.

He reached for her throat and pressed her up against the passenger side window. "Are you trying to get us both killed? Huh?"

"Let go!"

"Answer me, Leese!"

She pushed against his chest with her hands, scrambling to get him off her. His hands tightened, cutting off her air.

"Can't… breathe…"

"If you want me to be more like him, all you had to do was say so…" he growled.

With one hand holding her still, he skimmed her side with his other hand. He paused at her chest, slowly peeling her shirt away from the long scar. He placed his hand on it.

Lisa squirmed, but her legs were trapped on the floorboard, his knees digging into her thighs.

He removed his hand, kissing the scar. He looked up at her face and saw the tears start to form.

"I won't hurt you…" he muttered, stroking her cheek with a long finger.

Lips brushed lips as his hand relaxed on her neck. He could feel her body trembling beneath his. He didn't care. He crashed his lips into hers, taking and demanding. This wasn't a gentle first kiss. Gentle was behind them.

He heard her gasp, either for air or from shock.

Jackson let a hand drift up her shirt. Her eyes were closed, almost as if she were enjoying it.

He moved back, his lean body drifting from hers.

Her eyes popped open. "Wha…? What just…?"

"It's called a kiss, Leese."

She touched her lips. "Why? Why would you—?"

"To prove a point. You're not as hung up over Greene as you pretend to be. He treats you like crap."

"No, he… he loves me…" she whispered.

"No, not the way he should."

He leaned in to kiss her again, only to receive a second smack. "Don't! Don't touch me!"

Jackson sighed, settling back into his seat.

"Try that again and I'll kick you in the balls," she warned.

* * *

Anthony Greene stared at the worn picture in his hands of a young boy, probably in his mid-teens, standing beside an older man. The boy didn't smile and he kept his hands shoved inside his pockets. The most remarkable bit about him was the blue eyes that peaked out from dark locks.

"So Nicolai…"

"He'd be in his thirties," his stepmother offered. "Just a bit younger than me. Older than our sisters. He became the man of the family once our father got sick… It was the drinking…"

"And you last saw him in… Seattle?"

"Yes, when they took him to foster care. He looked… betrayed."

"Well, you did hand him over."

"I had just married your father. I wasn't going to bring them into this. They deserved nice families. I thought it was best."

Greene stared at the picture again. The kid looked familiar. He really did.

"Do you mind if I keep this for a little while? I have a friend who does age progression…"

"No problem, Anthony. Anything you need, you let me know."

His stepmother touched his hand. He could feel his skin crawling. "I should go."

"It was nice to see you. It's been a long time."

"Yeah, it has. Tell my father I said good-bye."

He stood up, smiling at her half-heartedly before ducking out of the parlor. He already had the check and now he had the photograph. Once he took care of his money issues, he would run the photograph against the FBI database. He was sure he'd seen that face before.

* * *

"Thank you for your payment," his employer said.

"Great. Now can I have my fiancée back?"

"I am sorry, I thought I made it clear last time… we have nothing to do with Lisa Reisert's disappearance."

"Think again. I think you have an idea…"

He snapped his fingers and whispered into another man's ear. "Give us a moment. Jeff here is going to do some checking and see if anyone's spotted your girl."

"Thank you."

* * *

The grainy surveillance photo showed his fiancée, in torn clothing, being forced into a sports car. There was a man with her, who kept his back to the camera. They were captured by a gas station camera.

The photograph revealed that she wasn't willing. The hand on her back shoved her inside. Whoever had her wasn't letting her go.

But why no ransom? At least, other than paying his debt. But the Committee didn't have her. So who did? One of their freelance operatives? Another enemy? Or someone who decided to abduct her for kicks? A sexual predator?

Anthony's head spun. Wherever she was, Lisa was in danger.

**Author's Notes:**

Oh, she's in danger all right… in danger of giving in to Jackson!

Reviews

NerdyGirl – Thanks!

Lexicon – Thanks! They do have great chemistry together. I'm trying to keep that sexual tension going between them. :)


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Red Eye_. If I did, there would already be a sequel.

**Chapter Thirteen**

Anthony Greene passed out folders around the conference table. He waited for everyone to start reading before he started to talk.

"Many of you are familiar with attack on Director Keefe five years ago. The woman who foiled the plot was reportedly targeted by the same group for execution. She survived and has been living in peace since the man behind the plot died. Her name is Lisa Reisert and she went missing following an explosion at her apartment.

"I have found evidence suggesting that she was taken against her will. On page three of the briefing, there are copies of the photographic stills taken from a surveillance video. I have already put tracers on her cell phone and credit cards. There has been no activity since the fire.

"Several of you know that I am to wed Miss Reisert soon. That is not the only reason I'm pushing for us to circulate her photograph. She has been targeted by powerful people in the past and there is a chance she has once again been targeted."

He paused for a moment, looking at his colleagues. "She has been useful to us in the past. We owe her this much. Let's get people looking for her. That should make it easier to track her."

* * *

They drove in dead quiet until Jackson picked a hotel for the night. Lisa didn't bother to talk to him. In fact, she didn't even protest when he held out the handcuffs. She glared at him, but allowed him to secure one of her hands to the bed.

He was careful not to touch her any more than necessary.

She kept her back turned toward him, ignoring him.

Despite the silence, he didn't fall asleep that night. He lay awake, thinking about how she reacted to drug buy and his forced kiss. He could still remember her soft lips.

When he'd taken her, he hadn't been considering his attraction to her. He'd been focused on completing his job and then on protecting her. He shouldn't have gotten involved with her—not again after what they'd been through on the plane. He should have left her to die.

But he couldn't. It annoyed him to no end that he was unable to resist a petite woman with a fiery temper. Normally, the professional side of him would have left her by the wayside after snaring his prey. He wouldn't care that the people Greene dealt with would kill her. That wasn't his problem.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to not save her life.

He glanced at his captive, knowing that even when the job was finished, he wasn't going to give her up willingly.

* * *

Hours turned into days and still the hunt for Lisa Reisert continued at the FBI. Greene continued to lead the search, using all of his time to track down leads, surveillance photographs, and knowledge about the locations and man in those photos. There was a large map on one wall of state, which showed all of the places Lisa had been spotted since the fire.

Gas stations were the most common. There were one or two Wal-Mart trips where she was accompanied by a man with a slim build, but her companion kept his face tilted down and away from the cameras. They bought basic supplies and while she didn't seem restrained, she didn't stray far from him.

There were also some grainy photos from fast-food joints along the road. As of yet, they had no idea where she was sleeping while on the road. However, he'd already put up roadblocks on several major highways, hoping to ensnare the pair.

So far, nothing. Lisa was still missing despite his increasingly desperate efforts and their wedding came nearer every day.

However, there would be no wedding without the bride.

* * *

"He's going to expect us to flee the state," Jackson explained one morning while Lisa ate a quick, greasy meal from a nearby McDonald's in the latest fleabag hotel. "Which means, we just stay put. We're also going to backtrack."

"Why? Why don't you just call him?"

"Too easy and he'll have taps on all his phones by now, in case of a ransom call."

"Then send him a note!"

He paused for a moment. "That's not a bad idea…"

* * *

Greene was at his desk, staring at the photographs from his stepmother. With Lisa missing, he hadn't followed up yet on getting them age-progressed. However, the image of Nicolai haunted him. Nicolai looked familiar—something about his face, his eyes—that bothered him.

"Greene, you got mail."

An envelope landed on his desk. Without a thought, he opened it, pulling out the paper inside. He unfolded the crinkled paper and read the message printed in blocked letters.

FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS OR I SLIT HER THROAT. CORNER OF 3rd AND PATRICK. COME ALONE. THIS FRIDAY AT 5PM.

Greene took a deep breath and read it again. The street corner was in a busy section of downtown where parking was almost non-existent. On a Friday, he really would be alone. And if the kidnapper came on foot, he could disappear quickly, well before any police or FBI agents could capture him. He could vanish in the crowd.

Which meant the man was either observant or knew the area well. This wasn't some nut. And fifty thousand was a reasonable amount compared to several million. It was about double the current reward for information leading to her return.

Again, intelligent. This man was smart. But why wait so long to ransom her? Was she still alive? Or had she been murdered within hours of her abduction?

Did the man who stole her away take her for money or more personal reasons? Did he use her and then decide to capitalize on the publicity for some quick cash?

Or was it something altogether different? What if it was a ploy?

Would the kidnapper really be there? Would he really let Lisa go?

More importantly—who was behind this?

* * *

Lisa tried on a hat that covered her recently dyed hair. Jackson smiled, nodding in agreement. They were preparing for the meeting with her fiancé. She wasn't sure she could go through with it—seeing him and then leaving.

Of course, she didn't know at the time that they would never make their meeting.

* * *

Lunch was at a diner. Fast, hot, and greasy.

Lisa wolfed down her grilled cheese while Jackson picked at his hamburger. Neither of them seemed particularly happy with their food, but they were hungry and less likely to be recognized there. The downside to being on the run and living in crappy motels was the lack of a kitchen and home-cooked food.

None of that mattered when Jackson pressed a gun to her head.

She dropped her food, slowly raising her hands.

"If anyone moves toward us, I'll kill her!" he shouted, pulling her up to her feet.

Lisa stumbled, taken off-guard. He locked an arm around her waist, helping steady her, but adding credence to his threat at the same time. He'd seen something that she hadn't—some threat.

But why was he giving himself away?

They headed for the door, Lisa facing the crowd of concerned faces as they walked.

She was at the glass door when a gunshot rang out, changing her life forever.

**Author's Notes:**

Who thinks Lisa got shot? Jackson?

I know, it's an evil cliffie, but it would inspire me to write more soon, I hope. Please keep the awesome reviews coming!

Patriot16- Thanks so much! I'm really enjoying writing this as well. It's tough at times, but reviews keep me going. Their chemistry is something else, isn't it? Just wait… all that tension is going to be explosive soon… ;)

BlueSkyMornings – Jackson will die to protect her if he has to. And he ain't goin' anywhere anytime soon… It's fun to try a slightly different tack with Jack and Lisa. And she wants more from him… ;)


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Seriously.

**Chapter Fourteen**

Lisa felt the shot rather than actually hearing it. It took a moment to seep into her consciousness as she touched the hole in her side. Blood leaked from it.

"I've got you, I've got you," a voice muttered, arms wrapped around her. "Hang in there, Leese…"

More gunshots echoed, but Lisa was beyond caring as she slipped into the welcoming darkness.

* * *

Getting out of the dinner with Lisa bleeding in his arms wasn't easy. Normally, he would dump the hostage and get the hell out of there, but he couldn't leave her alone. Not now. Not when she was hurt and weak.

So he did the next best thing. He returned fire as he backed out, clutching the nearly unconscious woman in his arms.

Jackson disappeared around the corner, tucked the gun in his waistband, and picked up Lisa in his arms bridal-style. She was limp and boneless. He could feel her blood—hot and sticky—on his skin. "C'mon, Leese… don't die on me yet…"

But he could feel her slipping away from him. And he wasn't ready to give her up.

* * *

"Agent Greene? There's been a sighting," called an eager young intern.

Greene looked up from the photographs he'd been studying. "Where?"

"About an hour away. Someone recognized her from the news, warned others, and tried to apprehend the man with her."

"Did they catch him?" Greene asked, feeling hopeful that he could have Lisa in his arms in an hour. He slipped his gun into his shoulder holster.

"No, he got away. And there were exchanges of gunfire. There's a chance she was shot."

* * *

Jackson undid the sloppy pressure bandage once he returned to their home base a few blocks from the diner. He'd pulled the first aid kit out and was cleaning the edges of the wound in order to get a better look at her. The blood steadily pumped out, but not at the same rate it would if an artery had been nicked.

He grabbed her shirt and torn the thin fabric in half, slipping it off her body. He bent over her, ready to fish a bullet out of her. Then he'd stop the bleeding and close up the gaping hole.

Without the benefit of gloves, he poured antiseptic into the wound and dug in with a pair of tweezers for the tiny bit of lead that'd pierced her skin. He found it.

"Hang in there, Leese, I'm almost done."

He cleaned the wound again, used cotton wadding to soak up the blood, and threaded a needle. He wasn't very good with needles and thread, but he needed to close the wound. Even if it was only temporary and rather messy.

Midway through the stitching process, he heard her stir.

"Stay still. I'm almost done…"

Her fingernails dug into his arm. "Owwww…. Ahhhhhh!"

"Relax. Breathe. Just a few more…"

She let out a loud scream, which he silenced with his left hand. "Leese, I need you to hold it in. Please… I know it hurts…"

Her eyes darted around, almost fearful.

"Lisa…"

He finished another stitch. She mumbled and screamed into his hand.

"Cover your mouth, okay? I'll do a better job with both my hands…"

He felt her nod.

He focused back on the stitches, leaving Lisa to cover her mouth and scream into it instead of the motel room. They would leave as soon as he cleaned up their tracks and stabilized her.

"Okay… all done," Jackson said, affixing a bandage.

She took a deep breath. "What… what happened?"

"You were shot. They were aiming for me. They hit you instead."

Lisa nodded, slowly sitting up with one hand on the bandage. "Why didn't you leave me? Or shoot me in the head?"

"I can't ditch you or kill you, remember? I still need you."

"You already sent Greene the note."

There was a heavy silence. "Fuck…" Jackson muttered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"What?"

"The meet… we missed the meet…"

"By how much?"

He glanced at his watch. "About an hour. It took a few minutes for me to get you here, get prepped, and fish out a bullet…"

"Oh God… what are we going to do now?" she asked.

"I don't know."

* * *

Crouched down beside the broken glass, Greene stared at the spot his fiancée had been standing in before being shot. The footage of the shooting had already been collected by a forensic team. He could see the drying blood left by Lisa.

Given the amount of blood and the gunman's warnings, he had a feeling that she was already dead. Which meant his job now was to catch the killer.

In order to do that, he'd have to work the crime scene and skip the proposed meeting. There wasn't any time to get downtown and get set up. He only had forty minutes. Plus, his best leads would come from the actual scene.

"I'll find him, Lisa. I'll find him and I'll kill him…"

* * *

The blood-stained sheets and clothes burned while they left the motel room behind. Lisa was dressed in fresh clothes, as was Jackson, and he'd half-carried her to their newest car. He hot-wired another car from the lot, just in case one of the bystanders at the diner managed to get a good look at his current car.

They took one bag of clothing and hit the road.

Jackson didn't know that Greene was less than two miles away and closing in fast.

* * *

"Stop it right there…"

Greene looked up from his notes to see the grainy video footage from the diner. "Wait… back it up a bit."

The tape re-wound slowly, bringing into focus the face of Lisa's abductor.

"Print that," he insisted, his eyes riveted on the screen. "We need to get that cleaned up and get copies to all the media outlets.

"Why? What's wrong?" asked an analyst.

"That man right there? That's Jackson Rippner. He's a known terrorist and he has a score to settle with Lisa Reisert. He's going to kill her."

**Author's Notes:**

Uh oh, Greene's getting closer! But he still hasn't connected the pictures yet… that's coming.

Thanks for sticking with the story so far! Hopefully it'll start wrapping up soon…probably around 20 or 25 chapters total. :)

Lexicon – Here ya go! New chappie!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** If I owned anything, this fanfic would be in print and sitting in your local bookstore. But, alas, I don't. Characters, plot lines, etc. from _Red Eye_ belong to Wes Craven, DreamWorks, and the scriptwriter.

**Chapter Fifteen**

Every news station in a tri-state area and some national stations were focused on the hunt for Jackson Rippner. The grainy photos from the diner were posted as were descriptions of him and his crimes. Footage from five years ago played endlessly as sketches of Rippner took corner spots on the news.

Then there were the interviews from the local police, the FBI, Greene himself, and Lisa's father pleading for her safe return. The press were eating up the story of Lisa Reisert—victim, savior, and abducted by a terrorist—and everyone was running pictures of the redhead.

Greene could only hope someone would see the pair and call in to the tip-lines. Of course, there was always the chance that Rippner would kill Lisa because of the exposure. It was a risk he had to take. He wanted to find her or at the very least capture—and kill—Rippner.

Capturing a wanted terrorist would definitely boost his career. He might even get a promotion if he took down Rippner. Saving Lisa would be the icing on the cake. A beautiful wife on his arm, a commendation for bravery and heroics, and Rippner behind bars or in the ground would be perfect.

He would do anything to make that happen. Even sacrifice his fiancée's life.

* * *

Jackson didn't sleep much that night. He knew there was a chance the cops were on their tail. He drove for several hours, circling back around and zig-zagging across the state. When he did pick a motel, he stayed up at Lisa's bedside.

He'd crushed up some painkillers and given to her in the car earlier. The combination of the pain, shock, and blood loss kept her mostly asleep. He was worried that she might start bleeding again or develop an infection. Jackson just couldn't shut his eyes.

He alternated between lying on the bed with her and sitting in a chair bedside it. He also paced occasionally, touched her forehead to feel her temperature, wet a washcloth to keep her cool, and periodically looked at her bandages.

Her sleep was fitful—she did moan in her sleep and toss a bit—yet deeper than his own.

Did he regret keeping her by his side? Did he regret her taking a bullet meant for him? Of course he did. He never meant for her to get hurt. His only plan was to protect her—save her. He owed it to her after the flight. The entire job was a mistake.

Leaving her was a mistake, too.

Jackson wouldn't leave her—not until the bitter end. Not until he finished this job and destroyed Greene, then he would let her decide. If she wanted him gone, he'd go. If she wanted him to stay, he'd stay with her forever.

He wanted to stay by her side. He wanted to be a better man. She gave him hope. Being with her made him believe he could change.

If only they could stay on the run long enough.

* * *

While the lab geeks studied and tested the blood left at the scene along with ballistics evidence and other small clues, Greene decided to deal with the photograph his stepmother left with him. He'd already scanned it and e-mailed the picture to a friend.

He clicked open his e-mail to find a reply e-mail with an attachment.

The photograph downloaded to his desktop before appearing on the screen.

Greene sat still for a moment, staring at the digital progression image. The blue eyes were still present, though he appeared to have grown into his bone structure. Nicolai did have a hint of femininity to his bone structure, which was evident in the progression. The dark hair was cropped short.

Even with the short hair and the lack of facial expression, he knew that face. He knew Nicolai.

He shuffled the papers on his desk, tossing files aside as he hunted down the picture burning in his mind. He slapped a piece of tape on the paper and pinned it to the monitor.

Side-by-side, he looked at characteristics from the grainy image and the progressed image. They were the same man. They had to be the same.

Jackson Rippner, wanted terrorist, was Nicolai Petrov, Russian immigrant, and his brother-in-law.

* * *

Lisa woke on the second day following the shooting.

"You stayed," she said softly, seeing Jackson's lanky build lounging across a chair. "You really did stay…"

He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. "Of course. Why would I leave?"

"I thought you'd be long gone. In another country."

"No, not until we finish this. Once I'm done with Greene, I'm out. Not before. I'm not leaving until this is done."

She sat up slowly. "What did Tony do to you, Nick?"

He couldn't help but pace the small hotel room. He looked everywhere except on the bed where she lay.

"It's a long story, Leese. You don't need to know it."

"I want to know. I trust you. I know you're not what everyone thinks you are. I want to believe you about Tony, but I care for him… more than you know. I want to hear your side."

He circled the room again. As he moved, she noticed that he wasn't walking as fluidly as he usually did. He also wasn't moving as quickly. Had he stayed up with her? Or was he also injured?

Her dark-haired savior sighed. "I told you before that Greene's not his real name. It's Callahan. Anthony Callahan. He's old money. But he has a habit of gambling and of using drugs. Started as a teenager.

"I don't know what he told you about his family, but his mother drank herself to death early. He got a stepmom. It drove him crazy. So he started taking risks. Gambling, drinking, and drugs. He wasn't as into hookers as other men I've met."

"Hookers? Tony wouldn't—" Lisa started to protest.

"He did. Now and again. Mostly, he got mixed up in the drug trade. He wasn't good at handling and managing money. That's why he started working for my boss on the side. He'd seize drugs on a raid for the FBI, save some for himself, or cut down the ones kept in evidence. He sold it to pay off debts."

"How much debt are we talking about?"

He sighed again. "Well over fifty grand. He also makes buys for some guys. Like I said, he'd dirty. You can't trust him. He's all about the money. That means he's willing to do anything."

"Anything?" She was skeptical. Who wouldn't be in her position?

"Leese, these guys he's working with…they aren't exactly picky. They won't break your bones—they'll take things. Anything. Anyone."

Her jaw dropped. "No… he'd never…"

"I saw the paperwork. He signed it. You were collateral. If he didn't pay up, they could take you. They wouldn't kill you—there's no fun in that. These guys take women, sometimes ones who can't pay, sometimes wives and girlfriends, and they turn them out. The lucky ones become high-end call girls. The not-so-lucky ones…they're doing anyone who comes along."

She shook her head, shock sinking in. _No, no… there's no way…_

Jackson sat on the end of the bed. "We call that a kill order. The women—or, sometimes, children—put in the business are dead, legally, mentally, and eventually, literally. If not, they want to be dead."

He reached for her hand.

She pulled it away slowly.

"When we want someone dead, it's an execution order. When we want someone destroyed, it's a kill order," he said softly. "That's why I'm here. I can't let that happen to you. The idea of anyone using you like that—"

Lisa gagged. "I'm gonna be sick."

Despite moving slowly earlier, he grabbed her, her legs over his arms. They tumbled into the bathroom together, Jackson holding her up as she dry-heaved into the toilet.

"I won't let anyone hurt you. I swear. They'll have to kill me first…"

**Author's Notes:**

Short, but pivotal chapter. Sorry about the long delay!

Now, for all those unsigned reviews…

Lexicon – Oh, it's coming. The stakes are much higher than before now that people know who to look for. Greene still doesn't know why. Thanks!

BlueSkyMornings – Greene's an arse. Nope, no avalanches. But he'll pay for it before long. Jackson will make sure of it…plus Lisa has a few stern words for him as well. Thanks! :)

_- Thanks so much! It's nice to know that it at least stands out.

WOW101 – Sorry for the wait! Enjoy! Thanks for the review.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** Honestly, no, I own nothing. I'm selling most of my possessions on Amazon, kid you not. Not my _Red Eye_ stuff, 'course, but other things. So, no, I do not own anything recognizable.

**Chapter Sixteen**

Numb, Lisa perched over the toilet. Bile rose in her throat, but nothing came out. Her stomach was empty. She had nothing to throw up.

His words echoed in her head. _"When we want someone dead, it's an execution order. When we want someone destroyed, it's a kill order…"_

She gagged, dry-heaving as he held her. His embrace was comforting in a way it shouldn't be. He wasn't lying to her. She could hear the truth spilling from his lips for once. He was too emotional to be lying. It was the pain that got to her.

"_That's why I'm here. I can't let that happen to you. The idea of anyone using you like that—"_

The brutal honesty got underneath her skin.

He wasn't exactly someone who sugarcoated difficult topics. Even on the plane, he'd been blunt. If she didn't make a call in time, her dad died. No kinda-sortas—dead or alive. He even promised he'd never lied to her—not directly.

And he'd grabbed her, instead of leaving her to bleed out in the diner. He risked his life to help her more than once. Did it matter that he was rocking her world? That he was destroying it bit by bit as he exposed Tony's true nature?

_Why do you care? Why do you give a damn about me?_

She didn't understand the man. One minute, he tried to kill her, and the next he was saving her. He blew hot and cold with his affection. It was driving her insane. At least with Tony, she knew he cared.

Or did he? Was she just a trophy? A prize of some sort? A bargaining chip?

Who was Lisa Reisert, really?

* * *

This was perfect. Just fucking perfect.

The man holding his wife-to-be was the same man his stepmother wanted him to find. Step family or not, it sickening him to know he was related to Jackson Rippner. Or Nicolai Petrov. Or Nicky Peters. Or any of the dozen aliases he'd used.

He couldn't believe his luck or rather his lack of it.

He would kill his step-uncle and reclaim Lisa. She would fall into his arms, sobbing hysterically, and everything would be right. He'd make back the money he'd lost. He'd get a metal for sure for taking down a wanted terrorist.

Life would be perfect. Just how he wanted it.

* * *

A little while later, Lisa laid on the hotel bed. Jackson stretched out beside her, stroking her hair. She kept her breathing even, pretending to sleep. She wouldn't admit that she needed him now. That she needed his touch to feel safe. That she trusted him more than she trusted herself.

They laid together, her back to his front.

It was too comforting.

A cell phone buzzed, cutting through her haze of feigned sleep. Jackson stirred, crossing the room to snag the offending object. She sat up, watching him pace the room. His usual five o' clock shadow was turning into a serious beard. It was time for a razor.

Though the scruffy look did work for him—not that she'd admit it.

God, she was beginning to feel like a teenager with a crush on a movie star.

"Uh huh," he said softly. "No, not today. No, there's no—"

Lisa watched him cross his arms in annoyance. "I already told you—"

He pursued his lips, pissed, and not hiding well. It was amusing to see him being cut off by another person. Not nearly as amusing as it would have been five years ago, but still pretty entertaining all the same.

"That's not gonna happen. I know that FBI fucker's on my tail. I also know that if I come in now or ever, you'll shoot me in the fucking head."

She bit her lip to hide a gasp of surprise. Sure, they were both in danger on the run, but she'd never fully realized what it meant for him to turn on his employers. His own life was at stake because he decided to help her.

"Does it sound like I care?" he snapped, still trying to keep his voice low. "Well, I don't give a flying fuck. I've done good work over the years. Besides, you'll never find me. If I even think you're getting close, I'll kill every last one of you motherfuckers I can find. Do you understand? You even think about coming after her or me and I'll kill you all. Got that? Good. Now shove that memo where the fucking sun don't shine!"

He snapped the phone shut with the same venom and force behind his tirade. Lisa sat still, stunned. What was Jackson doing? Did he really just—?

He spun on a heel, pausing. He looked nervous for once. "Oh, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Who was that, Nick? On the phone?"

"Umm, an old friend. Of sorts."

"You always threaten to kill your friends?"

Jackson cleared his throat, clearly on edge. "How's the stitches? Not too tight I hope…"

"It's fine, really." She pulled her legs closer to her body as he sank down onto the bed. "The people who put the order in… are they going to kill you for helping me?"

"Leese—"

"Please, tell me. I want to know."

He sighed, not looking her in the eye. "Yes. I regained their trust after before, sort of. The stipulation of my reinstatement was that if I screwed up, they'd kill me. It's not like I really cared. I mean, this is me. My family abandoned me. I had nothing to lose.

"Except for you, Leese. You're all that was left. I've hurt so many people—destroyed so many lives. This was my chance to do some good."

"You don't expect to live through this, do you?" she asked softly.

"No."

"Why save me? Why me?"

He shrugged, looking worn-out. "I don't know."

"That's real encouraging."

"It's not like I planned this," he snapped, his blue eyes cold once more. "I never wanted this. I'm no hero. I'm the villain, remember? Why haven't you run? Why are you still here? Why, Leese? Huh?"

"Because I trust you," she admitted softly. "I trust you with my life, Nick, Jack—whoever the hell you are. I. Trust. You."

"You shouldn't."

"I know."

"They'll kill us both."

Lisa nodded, moving closer to him. "I don't care."

"I mean it, Leese."

"So do I. But I'm not going out like a coward. I'm going out fighting."

He hesitated, their lips milometers apart. "Greene will be there."

"Fuck Greene," she whispered.

Jackson studied her face for a brief moment. Then he grabbed her, kissing her full on the lips. Lisa slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him down toward her.

He scooped her onto his lap, devouring her with his kiss. Teeth clicked together. Tongues clashed. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest, they pressed closer.

Gently, he pulled her down onto the bed with him, accepting that he would die in the coming storm. Jackson knew it. He'd always known in the back of his mind that saving Lisa Reisert would cost him his life. Right not, he didn't give a shit. He wanted to be with her.

Being together felt oh so wrong and so right.

**Author's Notes:**

Did it seriously take me a month and a half to update? I'm so sorry guys! Summer courses, switching colleges (three times, I might add since last chapter) and moving has been quite taxing.

Anywho, hopefully I'm feeling this story once more and I'll get the next batch out soon. I hope the JxL action sates all you fans. I might do a slightly M-rated next chapter, if folks are interested.

Lexicon – I have to re-read chapters before I even write most of the time. Some of the clues probably don't even matter now—and I'd ignore anything time-related. Maths were never my subject. She's wising up slowly. Slowly, but surely. Thanks!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** Same old, same old.

**Warning:** M-rated content in this chapter.

**Chapter Seventeen**

Lisa trembled. Whether it was from excitement or pleasure, she wasn't sure. It could be both for all she knew.

Those long fingers of his easily helped her undo her jeans. He unzipped the denim as she pulled her loose top off. But he paused there, not yanking her pants off. He just looked at her with those cool blue eyes.

She tugged on his shirt, without even saying a word. She was afraid to speak. Afraid of rejection. Afraid of actually enjoying this—enjoying having sex with Jackson Rippner. Sex with Jackson. Her Jackson. Her blue-eyed devil in a suit.

The specifics didn't matter. Right now she wanted him. Her fiancé was far from her mind. Jackson was here. Jackson saved her; protected her in ways she couldn't believe. He was sacrificing his life to save her.

Right now, she wanted to feel.

* * *

Jackson cupped her breasts. He couldn't help but look at the scar. He couldn't forget that line, even though it'd been five years, and it had slowly faded. If they lived through the next few days, he would find the man who raped her and kill him.

The simple fact that she wasn't fighting him or pushing him away, made him thrilled. It was a dream for him—one he'd had since he'd begun watching her five years earlier. He'd pictured it hundreds of times in his head.

As much as he ached to be inside her, he knew he had to take it slow. He wasn't Greene. He wouldn't just take from her. He wanted her to enjoy it—to enjoy being with him. To realize that not all men were monsters.

Lisa's hands shook as she struggled to help him with his shirt. He smirked at her attempt to even up the score between them before jerking it over his head. It was only fair.

He kissed her full on the lips, his tongue darting inside her mouth. She moaned, her eyes closed for a brief moment.

Jackson helped her with his belt and slacks. Once the material bunched around his hips, he kicked the pants to the floor. She laid back on the bed, her hair tousled, and jeans undone while he moved closer clad only in his boxers.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice husky. God, he wanted her.

* * *

"Shut up and kiss me," she declared.

As he angled his body above her, she leaned up to kiss him. Her teeth found his lip, nipping it.

He pulled back a moment, a sly smirk on his face. "You didn't…"

She kissed his throat, her lips finding the healed tissue on his throat. Her little mark. Her mark. She'd marked him.

It finally seemed to sink in. That day on the plane, they'd both left physical and mental marks on each other. The mutual attraction was more than manufactured lies and jobs. In a way, it seemed like they were destined to meet again. Destined to have this one night.

Lisa shimmed out of her jeans with his help. It wasn't graceful, especially not with her stomach throbbing thanks to the stitches, but she didn't care. Life wasn't perfect. He wasn't perfect. Neither was she.

"Leese…"

Her hand found him, stroking him inside his boxers. He was rock-hard and longer than she'd imagined. Very different than Greene. At least Jack understood foreplay as he kissed her and caressed her.

Jackson unclipped her bra, tossing it over his shoulder. He kissed and sucked down her neck. She giggled, his whiskers tickling her.

"Jack…"

"Hmm?"

"I want you. All of you," she said, breathless. "I mean it."

He grinned. "Then take it."

They rolled together across the sheets, Jackson pulling her on top. She looked down at him. "But—"

"I want you to lead for once."

Suddenly feeling shy, Lisa blushed. "I don't think…"

He leaned up, kissing her. Her protests dissolved into wet sounds, her body rocking against his in motion. She wanted this. She wanted him. It was almost an animalistic urge filling her—demanding that she be with him.

She pulled down his boxers, touching him again. He jerked, already prepared for her.

Lisa kicked off her cotton panties. Ignoring the pain in her side, she straddled him. His hands found her hips, helping guide her. He entered her slowly, pleasure and pain jolting through her body.

"Don't stop," she urged, bending down to kiss him. "Don't stop."

Together they moved, slowly. With each stroke, they came closer to a rhythm that suited them both. Nerves crackled, alive and on fire. It was like every inch of her was alive and his skin woke it up. Every sensation was heightened.

Her side started to bleed, the skin stretching around the stitches. She didn't care. She hardly noticed.

It was her and him. Together.

It felt right. So, achingly right. Nothing like Tony.

Their muscles spasmed and tightened together as an orgasm hit. Lisa couldn't help it—she cried his name, screaming "Jack" against his lips as he ejaculated.

Panting and breathless, she collapsed on his chest. His lips brushed her hair. "Fuck, Leese…what took us so long, huh?"

"I don't know," she gasped. "But I…"

"I know." They rolled together again, Jackson taking control. "I'm not much on slow, so I hope you can keep up…" he taunted.

"Try me."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

She threw a leg over his hip. "Go for it. Show me what you can—"

Jackson thrust into her, taking away her breath and train of thought. She was already becoming accustom to his size, but it was a sudden shock, given that she hadn't even remembered him pulling out.

Lisa threw her arms around his neck, her hips angling up to meet him. She was trembling all over, her skin hypersensitive. His facial hair was rough and coarse against her skin. She didn't care. She didn't care about much at all.

Just the pleasure flowing through her, courtesy of the very man who once tried to kill her. A man who knew all her secrets.

They moved together, in sync, and in a frenzy. Quick thrusts from Jackson only heightened the tension inside her, the need, and the intense waves.

Her legs closed around his waist, bringing her closer to him. "Leese," he groaned.

"Fuck me, Jack…"

He kissed her, deep, as he moved inside her.

She cried his name as an orgasm ripped through her. Lisa dug her nails into his back, her muscles contracting. Poised above her, Jackson grunted, his own release following hers.

Panting and sweating, they collapsed together, Jackson lying on his side. Lisa rolled over to face him, her body still humming from her orgasm. She curled up beside him.

"Leese…"

"Jack," she whispered.

"What about Greene?"

"I don't think… it wasn't… it wasn't real."

"So you trust me now?"

She nodded, her head resting against his chest. "I trust you with my life."

With a grin, he wrapped his arms around her and they drifted off into sleep, part of each of them hoping that night wouldn't end. In the meantime, they were together. They could have this one night—one piece of calm—before all hell broke loose.

* * *

Anthony Greene retraced both his fiancée's and her abductor's paths. He backtracked their whereabouts before the diner and after her apartment went up in smoke. He looked at the rundown hotels and motels, giving out pictures of Rippner.

He called ahead, faxing the pictures around. He made sure there was a tip-line just for calls about Rippner. He would use the Bureau to track down the Russian and then he would personally finish off his step-uncle.

Natasha would only know that her brother was dead. He wasn't about to admit that he was related to a terrorist. In fact, he almost hoped Rippner killed Lisa. If she died, he could only imagine the sympathy he would get from the public—and from women.

Tony would replace her easily. Perhaps he would even find someone hotter.

One could always hope.

* * *

After dawn, Lisa stirred in the hotel bed. Her side ached from the bullet wound. Other parts of her ached, though it was certainly more pleasant. She stretched under the sheets, turning to one side and then the other.

On the other side of the bed, Jackson lay asleep. He looked younger and less battle-weary asleep. Softer.

She knew that it wouldn't last. She also knew that if they kept running, he would end up paying the price. She didn't want that to happen. She couldn't live with that knowledge.

That left one option.

She would take the fight to the source. She would do what had to be done to fix this mess. She couldn't run forever. Tony would understand. She knew enough about him that perhaps he could make sure Jackson was off the government's wanted list. She would do whatever he needed, if it meant getting their freedom.

Lisa crept to her bag. It was unzipped from the night before.

She pulled on fresh clothes, listening to Jack breathe. It stayed even and steady.

Tip-toeing, she slipped out of the room with her sneakers in her hand. It took a moment to undo the door locks and she looked back several times, wanting to jump back in bed beside him. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't stay.

She did the next best thing. Lisa pulled off her engagement ring, a big gaudy rock, and put it on the pillow she'd slept on. Hopefully he would understand. He had to.

Lisa took a deep breath and stepped out into the brisk morning air, ready to take control of her life once more.

**Author's Notes:**

Don't kill me! It couldn't all be sunshine and roses! I will say this—the next chapter is a killer. And Jackson isn't letting her go anytime soon. Yes, this chapter was M-rated due to popular demand.

I want to thank an astute reader, **NastyaPastya**, for spotting several errors I made with Jackson/Nick's background. For a nickname, his sister would likely call him "Kolya" and his sister's name is "Pertrova", not "Petrov" since she's female. I'm not Russian and all I know about there comes from the internet and history books.

Lily94- She is. She's the cautious type, unfortunately for Jackson. We'll get to see them in action again very soon.

Katelyn- It's always great to hear from new readers! This story takes a lot more planning and plotting than some of my others (the Newfound ones are more made up as I go along). I like to do different versions of darkness/danger for Jack from story to story. In Newfound, she accepts him a bit more easily given that he saved her life and her friend's. I love the bathroom scene too. So many little things in that scene give insight into both characters. Unfortunately, "Five Years Gone" is not intended to be super long—it's actually winding down—but I've been wrong before and sequels are always possible! Thanks so much for your review!

Lexicon- RL is evil, honestly. But I'm in a writing mood once more, so chapters for various stories should appear sooner rather than later. Thanks!


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to _Red Eye_.

**Chapter Eighteen **

Greene grabbed his buzzing phone from the nightstand. "What?" he grunted, his eyes half closed. He'd only fallen asleep two or three hours ago.

"They found her."

"Found who? Lisa?"

"Yeah, she was at some little motel off the freeway," replied the other agent. "You'd better get out here."

"Is she…?"

"Dead?"

"Yeah…"

"No, they're saying she's alive, but rather beaten up. She lost a lot of blood and is malnourished. But she's alive and conscious."

"Did she say where Rippner is?" he asked, pulling on his jeans quickly in the dark. He didn't have the time to turn on a light.

"No, she's not saying much."

"Okay, where are you guys?"

"Umm, it's a Motel 6, off I-70. I think it's Carroll County… but it might be Howard…"

Tony yanked on a t-shirt. "I'll be there soon. Take care of her."

"We will."

"And find Rippner. I want his body."

* * *

Jackson turned over, reaching for Lisa. Instead of her warm body, he felt cooling sheets. That wasn't necessarily a bad sign. She could be in the bathroom or cooking. Except for the small fact that they were in a tiny motel with barely any money, no kitchen, and loud pipes.

He reached for his knife and sat up.

"Lisa?"

No answer.

He took in the state of the room, all of his senses alert. Her bag was on the floor near his, their clothes from the day before strewn around. He didn't see blood or signs of a struggle. He also didn't see her.

Jackson went to the door and checked the locks. Only the bottom lock was done. The dead bolt and chain were open. He'd personally locked them both the night before.

He had a sinking feeling that she wasn't out grabbing coffee and breakfast.

As he checked out their belongings, trying to determine what was missing, he spotted the ring on her pillow. He picked it up, frowning, as he examined it. The stones were real, but why was it on the pillow? Why would she leave it?

Hell, he'd never even seen her take off her engagement ring before. It was almost a symbol of why they couldn't be together. She flashed that damn thing in his face more times than he cared to count.

So why was it on her pillow?

It was a deliberate move. To what end?

More importantly, where was Lisa Reisert?

* * *

The hotel was swarming with activity when Tony pulled in. He shut off his unmarked car and hurried toward the main building, his badge in hand. He flashed it at the uniforms controlling the scene and stepped inside.

"Lisa?" he called.

Across the lobby, wrapped in a cheap blanket, Lisa sat in a chair with a paper cup in her hand. She stood up. "Tony."

"Thank God, I was so worried," he said, pulling her into his arms. He had to put on a show after all. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her face a bit pale and gaunt. "I'll live."

That was precisely what bothered him. He couldn't get a promotion if he had her back and no Rippner. She was worthless alone. He needed Rippner in order to make the arrest. His life was riding on capturing Jackson Rippner. His entire career.

And somehow, that stupid bitch has escaped.

"Is the man who took you… is he alive?" Tony asked.

"I don't know. He was asleep when I slipped out. I just ran."

"Where from?"

"I don't know. He kept me blindfolded most of the time."

Tony led her back to her chair. "How did you escape? I thought he killed you…"

"He needed me as a shield. He patched me up after the shooting. But he decided I was weak. So he started relaxing. He didn't bother to handcuff me that much. I waited for him to fall asleep before I ran."

"You're so brave," he cooed, hugging her. "I can't believe you're alive."

She smiled at him sadly, but the smile looked forced. Fake, even. Lisa wasn't the type to fake a smile. At least, not at him. Customers, without a doubt, but never him.

"I'm so tired."

"We're gonna go home, okay? I've got you."

Together, they walked out into the sea of reporters and cameras. He pretended to shield her in her blanket, his arm protectively around her. They both ignored the questions posed.

Once inside the car, Lisa curled up in the backseat. He glanced at her in the review mirror as she hunkered down. His eyes flicked over her body. Something was off. He could sense it.

"Did Rippner touch you?" he asked coolly as they pulled onto the highway.

"What?"

"Did he force himself on you?"

"No… it wasn't like that. Jackson's not… he's not that type of person."

"Oh, so you're on a first name basis with him now?"

She sat up. "Tony, what's wrong? Do you think I had something to do with this? That I ran off with him?"

"I'm starting to wonder."

"I didn't. He kidnapped me. I had no choice."

"But he let you escape?"

"He didn't let me do anything!" Lisa protested. "I thought he was going to kill me."

"Why didn't he?"

"I don't know!"

He saw her eyes flash. There was a flicker in them—doubt, perhaps? She certainly seemed upset by that question—almost repulsed. But not as repulsed as she'd been by the insinuation that Rippner raped her.

"Lisa, I'm sorry, I was just so worried."

"I know."

"I thought you were dead at first. It was horrible," he insisted.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"You did." He smiled at her. "And just in time, too. The wedding's in two days. Do you think you'll be ready?"

"How could I not?"

"That's my girl."

* * *

In a posh study, a man picked up his desk phone. A television near him ran footage of FBI agent Anthony Greene leading his fiancée out of a hotel parking lot. Supposedly the girl escaped from her captor, wanted terrorist Jackson Rippner. The man didn't really care how she escaped. All that mattered was the Reisert bitch was alive.

The kill order hadn't been dealt with. Rippner failed.

Another person picked up. "Hello?"

"There's been a change in plans. The kill order on the Reisert bitch is canceled. I want an execution order on both her and Rippner. There's a bonus for the person who brings me Rippner's head within a week."

"Yes, Sir."

He hung up the phone, satisfied that the Committee would clean up this mess. They had to. Someone had to put Greene back in his place. His debt had almost been paid off. In fact, it might be forgiven if he turned in the girl.

* * *

Lisa stared at herself in the full-length mirror. Tony was right, she looked like hell.

Her hair was an awkward blonde-brown color. She would have to fix that before the wedding. Her body had lost fat thanks to their running and infrequent meals. Her cheekbones and ribs stood out the most.

However, her gunshot wound wasn't infected—which had surprised the doctor. What worried her was the fact that the hospital insisted on running a rape kit. Given the high-profile nature of her abduction, she knew Tony would flip if she refused the test. Everyone would want to know why she said no.

She gave in, knowing the results would be positive for sexual activity. Tony would be furious that she'd lied to him, even though it wasn't technically a lie. Jackson hadn't forced her. She'd wanted him—wanted him a way she'd never longed for Tony. It was an ache that lingered even now.

One that shouldn't be. She was going to get married in less than 48 hours. She'd abandoned Jackson. She also knew that her time was running out. She didn't think that she'd live long after the wedding.

It was Jackson's cryptic warning about the kill order that bothered her. Once the media spotlight disappeared, she was fair game for the men who would abduct her, use her, and kill her. Plus, they'd want to shut her up.

Lisa just hoped that Jackson had enough sense to run. If he pawned the ring, he'd have some quick cash on hand. He could go anywhere. Sooner or later, the men hunting them would have her. It wouldn't matter that Jackson didn't turn her in.

Would it? Or would they blame him?

* * *

Jackson watched the television, his eyes following Lisa's every movement as the news replayed the footage of her being escorted to the car with Greene. He couldn't believe that she'd gone back to him. At least she'd gone to a hotel a bit away from their actual motel—giving him time to escape.

At the same time, he couldn't believe she was gone. After last night, he hadn't expected her to run from him. She was painting a target on herself by doing this.

His cell phone rang. He flipped it open with ease. "Yeah?"

"Rippner, the orders just changed," said an old friend, who happened to work for the Committee. "The ones on you and the Reisert girl."

"What about them? There was a kill order—"

"Not anymore. They want you both dead. It's an execution order. You need to disappear."

"You mean, Lisa…"

"She's dead. There's a hit planned for her wedding day. Apparently Greene is handing her over."

Jackson checked his gun, chambering a round. "Not if I can help it. Who are they sending?"

"I don't know, but it's someone important. It's all very hush-hush if you know what I mean…"

"I do and I appreciate the head's up, really."

"It's nothing. Now just stay alive, will you?"

"I'll do my best," Jackson promised.

He snapped his cell shut and removed the battery. It was no longer safe to make phone calls. He had to cut all his ties. He didn't have much time. If Greene wasn't stopped soon, Lisa would die. He couldn't let that happen.

Jackson buttoned up his blazer. Time to get down to the bottom of this job. He'd known the Committee hated Lisa. And him. But he was more valuable alive… except now he wasn't. Fake corpses wouldn't save them. He knew that.

The Committee could be persuaded, but it would take something big. Something they couldn't ignore.

He smirked as a plan began to form. He should've done this years ago. It was time for violence. This time, he'd be carrying out the plans. He wouldn't fail. Not this time.

**Author's Notes:**

We're in the homestretch, my loyal, lovely readers and reviewers. I can't believe the response this story's gotten. I'm touched, truly. I have plotted out the last little bit in a scene by scene format so the next two chapters should be quick.

Lily94 – Very stupid. She wants to save him. Jackson and Lisa are smokin' hot together. Don't worry, if Jackson gets his way, they'll have lots more passionate sex.

Lexicon – Heheheh, that's the best part about horror movies. You get to yell at idiots. I totally love watching horror movies. Why is that SciFi/SciFy now shows horror movies? Straight up horror movies—no weird creatures added. Tsk, tsk, Leese…

Katelyn – Thanks so much! At the very least, there will another story with a similar type of Jackson and Lisa. I'm not sure if I'm going to do a sequel at this point. If I do, it'll probably pick up further in the future. I like the dangerous vibe for him. I always saw him as being sexy because of the hint of danger. Hey, I love a bad boy – which is funny 'cause my boyfriend's a good guy. But he did tell me that it is possible to kill someone with a pen… Anyways, thanks so much for the review! I will be starting some new Red Eye stories in the near future.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, seriously.

**Chapter Nineteen**

_48 hours left_

Jackson watched the seconds tick by on his watch. Good old-fashioned timers never went out of style. Not really.

A building down the block exploded with a tremendous boom. The windows broke, glass and dust raining down on the street. Sirens and alarms went off. He smirked, the noise music to his ears. That was one Committee building down. That would slow down the men hunting him.

He still had a lot of work to do before dealing with the wedding. He had men to track down, traps to set, and people to kill. Lisa's life was on the line, much like his, and he needed to do something. Anything to keep from dwelling on the simple fact that she left him.

The damning ring was in his pants pocket. He wanted to make Greene choke on the ostentatious diamond. Lisa left the ring for him, as a sign of sorts.

_But what sign? That she wanted to leave?_

He knew it wasn't about calling the wedding off. The newscasters didn't let that detail escape knowledge.

Jackson pulled on a pair of shades and slipped into an Audi as sirens echoed in the distance. Time to disappear. One target down, half-a-dozen or so to go. And that was just today's list.

* * *

_46 hours left_

Exhausted, Lisa collapsed on a hotel bed. She tucked the coat around herself tighter, inhaling Jackson's scent. Tony had been trying to take the jacket since he got to her. Even the hospital tried. She fought them tooth and nail to keep the jacket, letting them take the rest of her clothes.

She curled up, missing the warmth of Jackson. The way he held her, kissed her, and made love to her. The passion. The heat.

A lump poked her in the side. She shifted, a small object pressed into her skin. Lisa felt the bed for the bump, thinking it was a phone or a remote. Nothing on the bed. She patted her jacket, feeling it again.

She pulled a small digital recorder from the pocket. Jack's recorder. He'd used it during his "drug deal" with Tony. It was perfect evidence against her fiancé. Maybe it would save Jack's life.

If it bought him time, her death would be worth it. She knew Tony planned to do something with her. She sensed the hostility. The revulsion. He was smiling and sweet for the cameras and his friends—not because he cared for her.

Not that she minded. Whatever she felt for Tony died a long time ago.

* * *

_26 hours left_

The hot spray of the hotel shower washed away blood, soot, and sweat from a long day of death. Two more bombs had taken out several area Committee locations. He also personally slit the throats of two contractors like himself.

By now the Committee would be circling the wagons and trying to find him. He'd become the enemy. He was wanted by both the FBI and his former bosses.

At least the FBI wouldn't expect him at the wedding. The agents would be looking for him, but they all knew he wasn't suicidal.

* * *

_24 hours left_

"Leese, I'm so glad you're okay," Joe Reisert said, sitting across from his only daughter. "When Anthony called, I almost… I thought…"

"It's okay, Dad. I understand."

"Why do you look so sad, sweetheart?"

She looked up at her father. "It's nothing. I'm just thinking."

"Tomorrow's a big day, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"You do want to still marry him, right?" he asked. "Lisa, if you don't… tell me now. I can call it off…"

"No, it's not… I'm just nervous."

Joe squeezed her hand. "I'm here for you, honey. Anything you need to talk about? Anything you want to tell me?"

"No."

"You sure? I mean, once was bad enough. But why didn't he kill you? Why did he just keep you?"

She wanted to tell her father the truth. To tell him that Jackson wasn't the monster they thought. Nick was a good man with a troubled past. He loved her. He was protecting her. He intended to die for her.

But she couldn't do it.

"It's nothing. I don't get it either, but he's not worth worrying about."

"What if he…"

"He won't," she promised. "He's not stupid. He knows I'm being watched and protected by the FBI. He won't bother me."

"Are you sure?"

"Dad, please…"

He sighed. "I just worry about you."

"I know. But I'm a big girl now. I'm getting married tomorrow. Everything's going to be just fine. All I want to do now is rest, okay? Don't worry so much."

Joe stood up. "If you insist. I'll see you in the morning?"

"You can count on it," she promised with a small smile.

"I love you, Leese."

"Love you too, Dad."

He closed the door on his way out. As soon as it clicked, Lisa switched off the lights. She climbed underneath the covers of the bed, tears reaching her eyes. She didn't want to go through with the wedding, but she didn't have a choice. She needed to buy time before exposing Tony as a fraud.

Tony would be shocked, but with so many people around and the cameras watching, he couldn't do anything about it. She counted on it.

With her face buried in pillows, Lisa cried herself to sleep, knowing that tomorrow was going to be her last day alive. She would be dead within 24 hours if Jackson's people had their way. Her only goal was to destroy her would-be husband and save Nick's life.

Then, she didn't care if she lived or died.

* * *

_12 hours left_

Twenty stories below, traffic rushed past. Sirens echoed off cement buildings down the block. The sky was a bright, clear blue. A beautiful day for a wedding.

Nick didn't give a shit about the weather. He stood atop an office building, his jacket flapping in the breeze. The sun beat against his back as he hunkered down on the roof. The scope of a sniper rifle focused on a nearby plate-glass window.

A flag blew in the breeze. The conditions were a bit too windy for his liking.

Guns had never been his favorite tool. He much preferred setting traps and accidents to firearms. He could use one, given the time to step up. He'd improved his aim over the past five years, honing his skills for a day like today.

With one blue eye close, he stared down the scope, scanning for movement inside.

A secretary walked past, her arms laden with files. He blinked, shifting the gun a hair to the left. He focused in on another window.

No sign of anyone.

Nick tilted the gun down, aiming at the street below. With the wind kicking up, he might have to relocate to lower ground and try for an outside shot. The odds of success would increase, but so would the odds of harming innocent civilians.

Frowning, he picked up the rifle. The clock was ticking. Time was running out and the wind wasn't settling down.

Nick re-entered the building, scurrying down the back stairwell to the fourth floor. The lower angle would increase his odds, while also giving him a chance for escape. He could relocate long before police found his perch.

No one would expect a shot from a lower floor instead of a roof.

* * *

_46 hours left_

"I'll hand her over after the wedding. That clears my debt, yes?" Greene asked his contact, hiding in a tiny alleyway with the man.

"Lisa Reisert's death will cover it. But don't think we're done with you. You still owe us a cut. We won't forget it."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you get your drugs and your money. I just need some time."

"Hand her over and you'll have your time."

"It's a deal."

Greene put down the phone, his fingers typing like mad on the keyboard. Each stroke brought him closer to erasing the man known as Nicolai Petrov. Even Nicholas Peters disappeared, confirmed dead. All that was left was Jackson Rippner.

He used the photographs and some fingerprints taken from the diner. It was the best he could do to discredit the man. There had to be no question when he took down Rippner.

Tony wasn't blind to the sudden explosions and deaths. He made sure Rippner's name was all over the crimes. Terrorism. Just like the bombing at the Lux Atlantic. There was no question—Jackson Rippner was a dangerous terrorist. He needed to die.

And he wanted to be the one to put a bullet in his skull before he handed over his wife. If Lisa died in the skirmish… he was sure the police and FBI would believe his story. A dead terrorist and a dead woman… it was obviously a tragedy.

He grinned to himself as he saved the data. He covered his tracks carefully, backtracking through several servers.

"Good-bye, Rippner. Or should I say Nicky?"

The age-progressed photograph disappeared pixel-by-pixel, leaving his screen as black as his heart.

**Author's Notes:**

Only one more to go. Should be a big one. Thanks for the reviews!


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Five Years Gone**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, seriously.

**Chapter Twenty**

_22 hours left_

The phone in his suite rang. Groaning, Anthony reached over and lifted the receiver. "Hello?"

"Agent Greene? I just wanted to let you know we have the results of the rape kit run on Lisa Reisert…"

He straightened up, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he flipped on a bedside lamp. He grabbed for the notepad and pen on the nightstand. Clearing his throat, Tony asked, "Can you tell me the results and fax a copy to my office?"

"Sure thing, sir." Papers shuffled in the background. "It seems that Miss Reisert did engage in sex while missing. The only problem is, there's no signs of force. No bruising or tearing. Everything about the test indicates consensual sex. The results aren't entirely conclusive at this stage since it's possible she was drugged…"

The nurse's voice faded. _Consensual. Sex. With Rippner._

He'd never felt so betrayed. The woman he was about to marry had not only run off with a terrorist but she'd willingly invited him into her bed. Had the entire abduction been a plot by the pair of them to make him look like a fool?

No one made Anthony Greene a fool. No one, let alone a stupid bitch and her psychopathic lover, made him look a fool. He'd kill them both.

* * *

_12 hours left_

He focused on the people entering the office building. He scanned the incoming routes. Given the traffic, the man he was hunting would have to come down the street. No parking garages today. Then again, he wouldn't be driving.

The Committee Chairman never drove. It was beneath him.

Since this was just a quick stop, his hired car would pull up out front. Once the door opened, Nick had under fifteen seconds to line up the shot and fire before the Chairman entered the safety of the building.

It needed to be a head shot. The Chairman might be wearing a vest, plus, his bodyguards might flank him on his walk. The best chance for a kill shot was the brain. No hat would stop a bullet.

A few cars slowed down, some letting out people, and others looking for a parking spot.

Then he made the plate on a Lincoln Towncar. It was the Chairman's car. Well, one of them. Not that it mattered.

Nick lined up his shot, waiting for a door to open, for a head to appear. His watch ticked off each second and his breathing slowed. In and out. Nice and easy. His finger hovered near the trigger.

A few pounds of pressure and the gun went off, a piece of hot lead burning its way through the air and into another man's head. Blood and brains splattered all over the Lincoln's roof as people screamed. He didn't wait. He was packing up.

He had a wedding to stop.

* * *

_4 hours left_

"Are you excited? Nervous?" Cynthia gushed, fluttering about in the room above the church. Lisa's gown still hung on a door, zipped inside a protective cover. Her best friend and maid of honor had already started to change into her gown.

Started being the opportune word.

She'd stripped out of her street clothes and pulled on a slip over her underwear, but that was as far as Cynthia had gotten.

Lisa looked up from the chair she'd claimed in front of the mirror. "Cyn, I'm fine, I guess. A bit nervous…"

"Aren't you worried about that Rippner guy coming back? I mean, that must have been horrible… being kidnapped like that! And shot…"

She sighed, grabbing her friend's hand. "Cyn, can you sit still for a moment? Please?"

The redhead nodded, pulling a chair close to Lisa. Their knees bumped. "What's wrong? Did he…?"

"It's not like that. He's… Jackson's… he's not that guy… the guy I thought. He's actually trying to protect me. It's Tony… he's mixed up in some bad stuff."

"Like what?" Her green eyes widened, popping out of her face. Cynthia was easily upset. She was loyal, but easily rattled by literally anything from a rainstorm to another person.

"Drugs. Theft. Some kind of mob thing… I'm not really sure."

Cynthia nodded. "So… this Ripper guy? How's he fit in?"

"Rippner and that's not his name… he's not who I thought. Cyn… I love him… not Tony. I love Jack, I mean Nick. His name's Nick. He saved my life."

"Oh, wow… so he's not… but I thought…"

"At first, I thought he wanted to kill me. But he showed me the truth about Tony. And he… I fell in love." Lisa laughed. "I fell in love with a man who tried to kill me once. And I'm about to walk down the aisle and marry some other guy."

"Then don't marry Tony.

She shook her head, curls bouncing. "I can't. If I don't do this, Nick could die. He's already put his life on the line for me… I can't make it worse. I have to marry Tony. But in case Nick comes looking for me… I want you to give him this."

Lisa handed her a small envelope. Cynthia took it, looking at it strangely. "What's this?"

"A good-bye. He'll understand."

* * *

_1 hour left_

In a well-cut suit wearing a pair of designer shades over his peculiar eyes, Jackson Rippner blended in with the crowd milling about the church. His freshly-shaved face and short hair helped with his appearance.

His fake identification also helped. No one thought twice about letting Nick Rosen in.

He took a seat on the bride's side, his eyes darting around beneath the shades to see who was coming to the wedding. He'd already left a present at the Committee's main offices. Several more were on their way.

He'd also taken out several private contractors, like himself, silently. No one knew who was behind the sudden assassinations. He liked the anonymity.

But he wasn't relaxed. He couldn't. Today was the final day. He knew that Lisa was scheduled to die. He had to be there—he had to protect her.

* * *

_4 hours left_

Cynthia stared at the envelope. "Now, why can't you give this to him?"

"There's some things I have to do. I have to expose Tony. It's the only thing I can do to help him. He risked everything to help me. It's all I can do for him. And this… this is something small you can do for me. Please?"

Her friend nodded. "I get that… but we are still talking about the same guy who you met on the plane, right?"

Lisa half-smiled, picturing their first meeting again, where the handsome stranger stood up for her against an arrogant asshole. "Yeah, that's Nick."

"If it makes you happy, then yeah, I'll give this to him."

* * *

_1 hour left_

"Honey, you're beautiful," Joe said, looking at Lisa.

She nervously patted the white satin. "Dad, I just wanted to tell you…"

"I know, honey, I know."

"I love you, dad. No matter what."

"What are you talking about?" He frowned, "Are you okay? Did Anthony hurt you or something? Or is it that Rippner guy?"

"Jackson Rippner isn't a terrorist. Whatever they say about him, he's a good guy. I trust him, daddy," Lisa said.

"I don't understand."

She bit her lip. "Daddy, I love him. I love Jack, not Tony. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but I do. I love him. I'm doing this for him."

"Lisa, what...?"

"I just wanted you to know the truth. I'm sorry. For everything."

* * *

_0 hours left_

Lisa walked down the aisle with her father, despite Joe's concern and unease. She didn't have much of a plan aside from playing along. Part of her hoped he was in the audience, while part of her hoped he wasn't—for his sake. There were men in suits with wires and guns everywhere.

She went through the motions, completely numb. She repeated words like a good puppet and smiled when she should. It was almost over. The reception would be a good place to blow his cover. She would wait until then—give Tony a choice in private in the limo to end the manhunt and keep his job.

"If anyone has any reason why these two should not be wed, please—"

* * *

"I object," Jackson said, his voice even and calm. Panic rippled through the audience, gasps and quick whispers at his nerve. He stood up, looking directly at the couple standing at the front of the church.

"Why?"

He walked down the aisle. "Because he doesn't love her. She doesn't love him. And his name isn't Anthony Greene."

Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd.

Lisa met his eyes, her green eyes watering. "Nick…"

"Anthony Greene is Anthony Callahan. He also is a drug dealer and thief. He's been stealing evidence for years and dealing drugs on the side," he continued. "He even tried to kill her. In fact, he's going to kill her tonight."

Startled gasps filled the church. Even Lisa closed her eyes for a moment.

"More importantly, I love her."

Lisa smiled. He stepped closer, more than half-way to her. "I've loved her for five years."

"Nick!" she cried, running to him. She threw her arms around him, pulling him close. Behind them, Tony growled.

"You piece of shit. He's the killer! He's Jackson Rippner!"

Several FBI agents went for their guns, moving toward the couple. Jackson stepped in front of Lisa, shielding her.

But as a gun fired, she pushed in front of him, taking a bullet in the back.

"Leese?" he called. "Lisa!"

Blood coated white satin, staining her dress. She lay in his arms, her blood spilling out. Jackson cradled her, looking up at Tony, his gun in hand. "You. How dare you?"

"Move away from the girl."

"Fuck you." He held Lisa close. "You shot her!"

He cradled her, putting pressure on the wound. She was losing blood quickly. Too fast. There was no way they would make it out of the church together.

"Nick…" she whimpered.

"I'm here, Leese. I'm not leaving you."

The FBI moved in. Tony was mere feet away. "Get away from her, Rippner!"

"Nick… go… you have to…"

He shook his head, "I'm staying right here."

"Please…"

He kissed her, tasting the salt of her tears. "I love you."

"Hands in the air, Rippner!" shouted one of the men in black. "Step away from the girl!"

Nicolai Petrov, alias Jackson Rippner, pulled a knife from under his jacket. He'd slipped it off one of the FBI guys at the door. No one even noticed. Not that it mattered with his thin bulletproof vest under his shirt. But knowing these guys, someone would aim for his head.

If he died, he didn't care, as long as he took Greene down with him.

He shifted his weight, still holding Lisa. Her eyes fluttered, her breathing ragged. "Don't hurt him… don't hurt Nick…" Lisa said.

"You know the orders—shoot to kill!" Anthony hissed.

Jackson moved, lunging for Tony, knife in hand. Guns went off.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Blood coated the church.

One man gasped his final breath.

* * *

_4 hours later_

Emergency surgery recovered the bullet from her back. Surprisingly, the shot missed her spinal cord, leaving it intact. There still might be nerve damage, but it was too soon to tell.

From her hospital bed, Lisa testified against Anthony. She gave the FBI the tape recording of the drug deal and told them what she'd witnessed. A few moments later, while her father went to get more coffee, Anthony's stepmother came by.

After a brief introduction, Natasha Callahan said, "You love Nicolai, don't you?"

"Nicolai? You mean Nick?" Lisa repeated.

She nodded. "I have a picture… it's old, but…"

Lisa took the worn photo in hand, smiling faintly at the lonely looking boy. Even as a kid, he looked serious, maybe even haunted. His face looked the same.

"Where did you….?"

"He's my brother. My younger brother." Her Russian accent thickened. "I thought he was dead for so many years. Anthony offered to look for him… but he said it was a dead end. But this Jackson Rippner is my brother… he's Nicolai."

She handed the very pregnant woman back the photograph. "When are you due?"

"Anytime now."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you, Lisa. I'm sorry that we didn't meet under better circumstances…"

Lisa closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, too."

They hugged, mourning their losses.

* * *

_2 weeks later_

"I'll tell you anything you want to do, especially about the Committee, as long as you promise me one thing," a man said.

One of the FBI agents leaned forward. "We're listening."

"Lisa Reisert. I'll tell you everything if you keep her safe. She didn't do anything wrong. I did. I killed those people. I followed those plans. I did it. She's innocent. But these people… they want her dead. If you can let her have a normal, safe life, then I'll tell you everything you need to know. I'll testify."

The men spoke together. They nodded. "Okay, Mr. Petrov, we'll get Miss Reisert in protective custody. Start talking."

* * *

_3 months later_

Lisa sat in an interview room. She'd been released from the hospital just a few days before with only minor nerve damage. Sometimes she lost feeling in her toes or legs and sometimes her muscles jerked without warning, but she could walk. And she was alive.

"Do you agree to testify, Miss Reisert?"

"Yes."

"All the charges against you have been dropped."

"Thank you for that. Can you tell me what's happening to Nick and Tony?"

The man sighed. "Anthony Greene's cases are being re-investigated. His assets have been seized. He won't be honored as a fallen agent."

"And Nick?" Lisa asked.

"Nicolai Petrov made a deal. He'll testify and give us information if we offer you witness protection."

She sighed. "Is he okay?"

"Minor injuries. His vest took most of the damage. He has been informed of your condition periodically."  
"Are you planning on prosecuting him?"

The FBI agent looked her in the eye. "He's admitted to numerous crimes."

"But he's not a killer! Not… not like Tony. It's not the same… he tried to help me! He saved me! He went to you… doesn't that count for something? I mean, mobsters can cut deals… why not him?"

"Mr. Petrov doesn't want a deal."

She sighed. "Well I do. I'll testify if you let him go. Witness protection for us both. We'll help you if you help us."

* * *

"Leese."

She threw her arms around him quickly. "Nick… I missed you…"

He held her close. "You shouldn't be here."

"I want us to start over. Start fresh. As two new people."

"New?"

She handed him a wallet. "Open it."

He frowned, his ice-blue eyes flicking over the leather wallet. "What's this for?"

"Your new name. I talked to the FBI. They made a deal. You and I will testify and we get to… we get to start over. Brand new names. Brand new lives."

"Witness protection. What about your family? Your friends?" he asked.

"They understand. Mostly."

"So, what's this mean?"

She grinned. "You and I are going to walk out of here."

"What?"

Lisa took his hand. "Nick, I love you. These last three months… all I could think about was you. When I found out you were alive…"

"Leese…"

"I don't want to be without you. I want to get to know you. The real you."

"Are you sure about that?"

She kissed him. "I'm sure."

* * *

Hand in hand, they left the prison together, walking to a waiting unmarked car to take them to their new home and new lives.

Once inside the car, he held out his hand to shake.

"Hi, I'm Nick."

"Lisa. It's nice to meet you."

"You too."

**Author's Notes:**

Six years later and I'm still writing for _Red Eye_. Woah. And thank you, thank you, my brilliant reviewers! You guys rock! There aren't words. Really.

So, what do you think? Worth the wait? A reasonable ending?

Let me know! See you all at the next story! Thanks so much for hanging in there until the end!


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